Take My Hand
by wazlib88
Summary: Ron and Hermione are ready to take the next step in their life together, but not everyone is as thrilled as they are. While Hermione's family is struggling to adapt to the new developments, tensions rise as old threats are revisited. Somewhere amidst the chaos, Ron and Hermione learn just what their decision means as well as just how much they can overcome together.
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE: In all caps because you may actually want to read this even though it's sort of long. But if not, then that's cool too.

Well, here it is. My second major multi-chaptered fic. This has been a challenge to write for two main reasons. The first is that it contains a bit of a mystery plot, which is something I've never attempted to write before. The second is that this is the only one of my fics that directly contradicts the timeline established in my first multi-chaptered fic, _Firsts and Lasts._ In this story, we will encounter a Ron and Hermione who are a bit more impulsive than they were in FAL - you'll see what I mean by the end of this first chapter. Though this is a bit of a departure from what I've done in the past, I sincerely hope that you all will find at least some enjoyment in it. I have been playing around with this idea for quite some time now - half of the premise for the whole thing actually long predates FAL, believe it or not. The rest of the story developed a little over four months ago, and it has gone through some major revisions since. In the end, this was the result. Thank you for giving it a shot. :)

The title was predominantly inspired by Elvis Presley's "I Can't Help Falling in Love with You." I like this song for Ron/Hermione in this story, and (fun fact) it was my parent's wedding song, which is kind of cool I guess. Also, the title emphasizes the idea of the two of them holding hands and facing the world together, which is an image I like. Yep. (Side note: I had a really tough time picking a title. Seriously. The rejected ones were really bad so hopefully this one is at least passable.)

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling never intended for this to happen, did she?

* * *

When Hermione Granger had woken up that chilly morning in early March, she'd been intending to take a shower, put on her favorite jumper, eat breakfast in the Great Hall, meet Ron in Hogsmeade, and snog him senseless for the rest of the afternoon, before retiring to her room to get a head start on revising for NEWTs. Things began just as she had planned; she took her customary fourteen minute shower, dug out the purple jumper Mrs. Weasley had given her for Christmas, ate a small breakfast with Ginny at the Gryffindor table before they left for Hogsmeade, and promptly jumped into Ron's arms the second she saw him waiting outside of the Three Broomsticks. Hermione had not, however, been intending to invite Ron back to the castle, sneak him past various teachers (including now-Headmistress McGonagall), and have sex with him in a Hogwarts dormitory - the _Head Girl's _dormitory, at that. And yet, that was exactly what had happened. But even though it hadn't been meticulously planned, Hermione reasoned as she adjusted the duvet around the lower half of their otherwise naked selves, there were certainly worse ways to lose their virginities.

She supposed the change of events wasn't completely unexpected. It was true that neither of them had really known what they were doing, of course, but this sort of thing had been a long time coming. In fact, Hermione suspected it would have happened much earlier if they'd ever really had the chance. Well, really, they weren't supposed to have had a chance today, but somewhere along the line one of them had decided to _make_ a chance, and things had progressed from there. It scared Hermione, sometimes, how willing she was to break and bend the rules where Ron was concerned.

It hadn't been romantic in the traditional sense, perhaps, but Hermione didn't really mind. She had been taking the contraceptive potion for months anyway as a precaution, and she'd read up a bit on the subject - until she'd started to feel a little embarrassed for her choice of reading material, that is. So, even though she hadn't had a particular plan in place, Hermione had felt prepared enough to simply let things happen as they may.

It had been a little awkward, yes. They hadn't got nearly this far with each other before, or with _anyone_ for that matter, and the fact that their prior knowledge came only from hearsay of other people's experiences had made for a bit of a steep learning curve. But they'd begun to get the hang of it quickly, for even Ron was a fast learner when he wanted to be, and the things that had happened before - the _foreplay_, Hermione supposed it was called - had been very nice indeed, even if the sex itself had been a bit uncomfortable for her at first. It was alright, though, because the way Ron looked at her and touched her and said her name made her feel more beautiful, more _loved_, than she ever had in her life.

So now, as she lay on her back, one of Ron's strong arms draped across her bare stomach as he lay next to her on his front, his face buried somewhere in her bushier-than-normal hair as he rested his head near her shoulder, Hermione didn't care one bit that the day had deviated from her original plan, because _this_ had happened, and _this_ was amazing.

They'd been lying there for several minutes now in a comfortable silence, each trying to catch their breath and get some sort of reasonable grasp on their mental faculties. This was exceptionally difficult for Hermione due to the feel of Ron's fingertips tracing gently along her side. She felt almost as though she were in a dream; even the unquestionable reality of everything around her caused her to feel disoriented. So, when Ron shifted and she turned to face him, she was only able to respond to his gravelly "hey" with a simple, breathless "hi."

They stared at each other for a moment. Hermione would have laughed at the slightly boyish and certainly adorable look of awe that was on his face if she weren't sure she was wearing almost precisely the same expression.

"That was-" she began breathlessly, but found herself unable to come up with a sufficient adjective.

"Yeah," Ron nodded in understanding, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "I love you," he added quickly, as though the need to remind her was so great he may combust if he didn't comply.

"I love you, too," she agreed quietly, moving one of her hands to lightly brush the arm still wrapped around her stomach.

Ron simply grinned at her for a moment, before his face fell a bit and he blurted: "I'm sorry you didn't-"

"I did though," Hermione cut him off almost immediately. "Before," she added, the smile across her face growing as she remembered the circumstances that had brought _that_ particular feeling about.

"But not during," Ron remarked knowingly.

"No, not during," Hermione confirmed. "But I didn't expect to during - not the first time, anyway."

"So there'll be a second time, then?" Ron asked casually, waggling his eyebrows around in a ridiculous fashion.

"Of course there will, you dolt," Hermione laughed, poking him in the side. "I'm afraid this isn't going to be a one-night stand."

"I should hope not," Ron said seriously. "I don't think I could be without you after that."

Hermione gasped in mock indignation. "Just after that, then?"

Ron rolled his eyes and smirked. "_Especially_ after that. Better?"

"Marginally," Hermione allowed, leaning over to brush his lips softly with her own. When she pulled back, the slightly dazed look in his eyes had grown even more pronounced, and she couldn't help but giggle a bit. The sex was something that would get better with time, but _this_, this was already perfect - this intimacy, this easy familiarity; everything was simply-

"Will you marry me?"

Hermione froze. Only her eyes were moving, widening comically as she tried to determine whether or not the words she'd just heard had come from Ron or from her imagination. Some part of her suggested that it may have been the former, as illogical as that was, because he was looking at her expectantly, his expression a mix of hope, vulnerability, wonder, _love.._but her brain had temporarily shut down; she had no idea what to say, or do, no idea of anything at all. When she could only muster a whimper in response, Ron continued hurriedly.

"Look, I know it sounds a bit mad, but Hermione, think about it. There's nobody else, you know? I'm only ever going to want you, and I reckon you feel the same way."

"You're just saying that," Hermione accused, because that explanation was far easier than daring to believe that he knew exactly what the words meant. "Because we've just had - it's just the moment, it's fine, you're just caught up-"

"No, that's not it," Ron insisted, shifting and propping himself up on his elbow. Hermione was instantly struck by the confidence he exuded, which was remarkable because Ron had never been particularly self-assured unless he knew precisely what he was doing. His voice grew more excited as he continued to speak: "I mean - this isn't spur of the moment. Well, yeah it is, I guess, but it's really not when you think about it. Remember last summer? I stand by everything I said that night, you know. I fucking love you, more than anything, and I want to be with you 'til I'm a hundred years old and senile, and then for awhile after that, too."

Hermione nodded, because she did remember. It had been one of the best nights of her life. She and Ron, after a couple months' worth of holding hands, stealing kisses, and determinedly avoiding any difficult conversations, had stayed up all night talking under the stars at the Burrow. They'd finally been completely open with each other - about the war, her parents, his family, Hogwarts, how helpless they felt trying to adjust to all that had happened. They'd even revisited their younger years, all the good times and the bad times, and the misunderstandings most of all.

Finally, they'd talked about the future. Though it had all been labeled as hypothetical, they both knew on some level that it wasn't, not really. That night, they had declared once and for all that they wanted to be together - not as some sort of fling, and not as some sort of quasi-relationship, but really, properly together, for the long haul. They had their entire lives ahead of them now, and they wanted to share the years they'd earned with each other, because there'd never _really_ been anybody else. So they'd made a plan, as Hermione was wont to do. Ron would train to become an Auror, and Hermione would finish her education. Afterward, they'd settle into their jobs, find a flat - and maybe, someday...

But they'd left it at that, because then, they'd each said three little words that had changed everything, and Ron had leaned in and kissed her in a way that was _nothing_ like the stolen kisses they'd been sharing for the past few weeks. It was the sort of kiss that took everything each of them had to offer and gave it to the other person tenfold. Neither of them could have held any doubts after that, but the promise of their long-term future had remained unspoken. So yes, Hermione remembered that night very well, and she knew exactly why his words weren't coming entirely out of the blue.

"I meant it, too. But we're only nineteen," Hermione protested as her mind returned to the present, and her focus shifted entirely to the gorgeous man - truly the love of her life, she knew - lying next to her, naked in more ways than one, with a hopeful expression on his face.

"So?" Ron insisted. "Think about it, love. We've still got some of that reward money Harry shoved off on us, so it's not like we couldn't afford a small ceremony, which I'm assuming is what we'd want anyway. I'm almost done with training, and you're going to get some amazing position at the ministry. We were talking about getting a flat together anyway. Not a lot would change other than making it official, you know? I mean, it would, but in a good way. And yeah, it's not like either of us is ready for kids yet, obviously, but getting married…I dunno, it just…it seems right."

Ron paused for a moment, but Hermione remained silent for a moment. When at last she regained her ability to speak, she stammered: "Well yes, I always thought someday-"

"Ah, screw someday," Ron dismissed. "Look, we could dawdle for ages, waiting for the right time to do it, or we could just do it now. It all comes out the same, and we both know that's how it's going to turn out anyway. So why wait?"

A thousand reasons why they should wait a proper amount of time flew through Hermione's head, but she couldn't bring herself to vocalize any of them, because none of them seemed remotely good enough. When she was silent for another moment, Ron continued:

"I can still ask you properly, too. There's a ring, in a shop in Diagon Alley; I don't have to pay rent to live at Grimmauld, so I've been saving up for it for awhile now. It's not like it's huge or anything, but I think you'd like it. I'll go get it for you as soon as I leave here, if that's what you want. Hell, I'll even do the kneeling thing, I just - I want to marry you, Hermione, and I want everything that entails," Ron's eyes shone as he spoke. Hermione could very nearly feel the nervous excitement in his tone - though, on second thought, that excitement may have been her own as well.

"I want to marry you, too," she answered automatically. She could hardly believe what she was hearing, but even more so, she could hardly believe that it made perfect sense. Every ounce of logic told her that she shouldn't get married just yet, that she should wait another few years. But the look of honesty in Ron's eyes and the warm feeling that was quickly spreading through her insides told her something entirely different, and she was quickly finding this to be one of those rare occasions in which logic would not winning out.

"But?" Ron prompted knowingly, his face falling a little. Hermione could see the confidence that had radiated from him earlier dropping a bit the longer she took to give an outright answer, so she spoke quickly.

"But nothing," she said firmly, not wanting to let a shred of doubt cross his mind. "It's just a bit scary, isn't it?" she asked tentatively, hoping that he knew she didn't mean marrying _him_ was scary, but rather, the idea of properly growing up and marrying anyone at all.

"Of course it is," Ron answered automatically, quelling her anxieties. "But it's right, don't you think?"

Hermione paused for a moment to think about it, though her brain was still only capable of working at about half its usual speed. She was completely in love with Ron, she knew that, and she knew without a doubt that she wanted to be with him for the rest of her life. It was one of those things that she'd never really questioned. The first time she'd kissed him, she'd known.

Really, the only thing that had stopped her from saying yes the instant the question had come out of his mouth, other than complete shock, was the fact that they had not yet been together a full year. And they were young, almost _too_ young to really know. But then, she thought, the events of the past few years had forced them to grow up, to identify what truly mattered. She knew they were both far more mature than their ages would have them seem.

And besides, hadn't she always known, on some level? Hadn't they said that there hadn't ever been anyone else, and that there never could be? They'd had a few fights, sure, but they'd always come through them stronger than before, because the truth of the matter was that they needed each other in some strange way they both understood perfectly, though neither of them could quite explain it in words.

Furthermore, their arguments had been few and far between since they'd got together; they were now able to handle rows with an integrity they'd lacked in their younger years. They understood now that their relationship was more important than any of their often ridiculous quarrels, and that communication could save them a lot of heartache. As a result, they could no longer stand to give one another the silent treatment for longer than about an hour.

It wasn't as though they didn't know each other well enough, either; in fact, there was no one else that knew her better than Ron did, and there was no one else that ever could. Hermione didn't normally like revealing everything about herself, but it was different with Ron. He'd seen her at both her high points and her low points, and she had done the same for him. They'd been there for each other in ways that no one else could, especially in the year after the war. Ron was her best friend, and of course she was going to marry him someday. It was one of those things that went without saying, like how she and Ron would always have Harry's back, or how the Weasleys would always love their children. He was Ron, and she was Hermione, and there was really no other way it _could_ go. That begged the question: what was the point in waiting? In that moment, Hermione made a decision: she simply couldn't see one.

"Ask me again," she whispered to a now very nervous-looking Ron, bringing one of her hands to rest on the arm that was still tracing patterns on the side of her stomach, and the other to tangle in his hair. A slow grin spread across his face as he realized what she was requesting.

"Hermione Jean Granger," Ron said very seriously, leaning down to hover over her so that his face was mere inches from hers."Will you _please_ marry me?"

"Yes," she breathed, and in an instant his lips were on hers, and she could feel him smiling into their kiss. Soon, they were both laughing through happy tears, and though their lips broke apart, they clung to each other as though they couldn't possibly be close enough.

"We're mental, aren't we?" Ron wondered aloud as they lay there, tangled together in what Hermione could only describe as a fit of happiness.

"Completely," she agreed. "But weren't we always?"

"Yeah. Always will be, too," Ron said emphatically before he once again covered her mouth with his, and this time, they most certainly did not stop.

Three weeks later, when Hermione stepped off the Hogwarts Express in King's Cross for Easter break, she was greeted promptly by Ron, who, as promised, fell immediately to one knee and presented her with a simple diamond ring. Doing her best to ignore Harry's look of shock, Mrs. Weasley's joyful tears, George's wolf-whistle, and Ginny's triumphant holler, Hermione accepted it, and was pleased to find that the modest but beautiful ring fit perfectly on the third finger of her left hand.

They were able to kiss for only a moment before they were surrounded by Weasleys, but neither of them particularly minded. This part was all for show, anyway (though neither of them had to fake their smiles). It made for a lovely "public" story, and they were able to keep the true circumstances of their engagement to themselves. And at any rate, regardless of when, where, or how it had happened, they were getting _married_, and the feeling that went along with it made them feel as though they were on top of the world.

* * *

A/N: So, now we see why they are a bit different than I've written them before. In the FAL universe, they tended to be very calculated when taking new steps in their relationship. This story begs the question: what would have happened if they had decided to simply go for it?

I sort of want to emphasize now that this story is less about drama between Ron and Hermione than it is about Ron/Hermione dealing with outside forces. Now, they aren't going to have a perfect relationship - no one does - but there isn't going to be a blowout fight or anything. Like I said, there's a bit of a mystery plot in the background that we will begin to see unfolding in the next chapter…which should make an appearance in less than a week's time. My hope is to update once every five or six days so that I'll have this completed around the time the school year is starting up again. Thank you for reading :)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, following, and even favoriting this story - and most of all, thanks for making me smile :) This chapter features much more plot than the last one, and it takes place about four months after Ron's original proposal. There's quite a bit of exposition here - not the most exciting chapter by any means, but it sets up the plotlines for the rest of the story. :)

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is a genius and sometimes I still forget my phone number.

* * *

Life didn't get much better than this, Ron thought to himself as he padded down the narrow hallway that led out of the bedroom. It was damn near the perfect morning, actually; he'd woken up at ten on a Saturday from a restful, post-shag sleep, in the flat he shared with his fiancée, who just so happened to be Hermione Granger, and he was currently following the smell of bacon. Sure enough, when he reached the kitchen, he was greeted by the sight of a small brunette in a dressing gown setting the table for breakfast.

"Aren't you beautiful?" Ron moaned as he hugged her from behind and buried his face in her neck.

"Me or the bacon?" Hermione quipped playfully.

"Both," Ron replied, pressing a kiss to her shoulder before drawing back and sitting at the table. Hermione poured them each a cup of juice before she joined him, and they began to eat their meal in a peaceful, comfortable silence.

They had got the domestic routine down quite nicely in the week since they'd officially moved into their cozy little flat. Hermione had only just begun working in the legal division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and because all of the leftover reward money Harry had stuck them with was going toward the wedding, they were renting the place off of what little Ron had left in his savings after buying Hermione's ring. Ron had recently graduated from his training program to become a Junior Auror, which helped their financial situation a bit, but they still hadn't had many options when it came to purchasing a flat.

The place they'd ended up with was fairly well-kept and in a decent neighborhood, but it was quite cramped. Ron had been obliged to leave many of his belongings either at the Burrow or in the spare bedroom at Grimmauld Place, and Hermione had taken only the bare essentials from her childhood home. Neither of them particularly minded, though; they were simply happy to be living together and planning their upcoming wedding, which was set for the first weekend of September.

Moving in hadn't been a terribly difficult adjustment to make after the year they'd spent in the tent. It was easier, even, now that the pressures of a war and heaps of unresolved sexual tension had been removed, and Ron and Hermione soon found that the domestic life suited them quite well. She'd have to nag him to do his share of the chores occasionally, of course, but Ron suspected she secretly enjoyed having something to harp on him about, and he rather enjoyed when she got a bit bossy.

"Would you mind unpacking the last of your boxes before we go to my parents' later?" Hermione asked, drawing Ron out of his momentary reverie.

"Sure," Ron agreed immediately, smiling a bit. "Do you reckon we should dress up?"

Hermione bit her lip in thought. "Well, it wouldn't hurt. Why don't you wear that blue shirt of yours?"

"Okay. One more question, though; do you think I'll get myself kicked out, or will I get so angry that I'll _have_ to leave?" Ron asked seriously.

Hermione let out a breath of exasperation. "Ron, really..."

"I'm just asking," he said defensively, shoving more bacon into his mouth.

"Just because it went badly last time doesn't mean it will this time," Hermione said firmly. "I had a talk with them the night before we moved."

"And was it a pleasant little chat, then?" Ron prompted, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

Hermione pointedly ignored him. "Just be polite, maybe crack a few jokes. My mum's always thought you're funny."

"Your mum's not the one I'm worried about," Ron muttered.

"Ron, it's okay. You haven't _really_ seen them since April; they've had time to get used to the idea now," Hermione said comfortingly.

"Right," Ron mumbled, his spirits only sinking as his thoughts turned to the ridiculously uncomfortable ten minutes they'd spent at the Granger household on the first day of Easter break. He'd sat in the dining room with Hermione's mum making awkward small talk while Hermione and her dad had engaged in a very loud "discussion" in the study.

Just as Ron had remarked to a nervous Mrs. Granger for the third time what nice weather they were having (it was raining), Hermione had reappeared in the room, pointedly levitating her trunk behind her and announcing loudly that she would be spending the rest of her break at the Burrow. After hugging her mother quickly and blatantly ignoring her father, she'd stormed out the front door, Ron following sheepishly at her heels.

Ron knew Hermione's relationship with her parents had been a bit strained since they'd got back from Australia. They hadn't taken particularly well to the news that they'd been sent to Australia essentially against their will, and it had placed tension on a bond that had been nearing its breaking point for years anyway. Hermione's parents had never fully understood her magic, and she had refrained from telling them about the darker events of her school days for fear that they wouldn't allow her to return to Hogwarts. Learning that their daughter had been heavily involved in a war had shot a hole clear through the fragile trust that remained. Though Mrs. Granger had since made a bit of an effort to reconnect with her daughter, Mr. Granger seemed to be trying to prove a point that he could be even more stubborn than Hermione.

Hermione had lived with her parents for only a few days after they'd returned from Australia before she'd decided it would be best if she moved to the Burrow for the rest of the summer. It was then that her relationship with Ron had intensified; though they'd been casually seeing each other since the war had ended, they had shied away from actually defining what they had. But Ron had been there for her as she attempted to rebuild her family; he'd held her while she cried and listened while she talked, and she'd done the same for him on _his _family's bad days. After all of that, neither of them could pretend that their relationship was anything less than what it was: they weren't simply messing around; they were in love, and they were going to be for a very long time, to say the least.

So, leaning on each other for the support they needed, they'd begun to sort out their lives. They threw their efforts into reconstructing their world, and everyone had undertaken the daunting task of moving on from all that had happened. For Ron, this primarily included helping George reopen the shop and rebuild his life. For Hermione, it meant working on her relationship with her parents.

Ron had accompanied Hermione to her parents' house a few times later that summer. Though the meetings were a bit tense, they had been making substantial progress. They were her parents, after all, and they loved her just as she loved them; that much had always been clear. But of course, everything had changed when Hermione had come home for Easter with an engagement ring on her hand.

Though Hermione had explained to Ron more than a few times that it was nothing to do with either of them as people, and it really had more to do with how quickly their relationship was moving, he knew that their disapproval hurt her just as much, probably more so, than it hurt him. While Ron's family had been a bit surprised to hear the news, they were largely overjoyed at the news of the impending nuptials. Hermione's parents, however, had felt as though it had all come completely out of the blue. The difference, Ron supposed, was that his family and Harry knew the history between them, and any misgivings they had about their age were eclipsed by the fact that they had all known it was only a matter of time anyway. Mr. and Mrs. Granger, however, hadn't realized that their daughter was in such a committed relationship.

"They feel like they don't know me anymore," Hermione had confided to Ron over butterbeers during the last Hogsmeade visit of the year. "I don't blame them, I suppose, but they know I've been making every effort to patch things up. My mum's not so bad, you know, she wrote to me offering advice about flower arrangements the other day, but my dad's still livid. You have to understand, Ron, people don't normally get married so young in the muggle world, and all of the sudden their nineteen year old daughter comes home with the news that the wedding's in a few months. It's going to take some getting used to for them."

"They don't have to take it out on you," Ron had insisted fiercely, but Hermione had laid a soothing hand on his arm.

"It's a tough situation, especially with me being away. I've been writing to them constantly, trying to work on it all. I think it's getting better, I really do. And besides, nothing could possibly make me less happy about marrying you," she'd said with a brilliant smile. After that, their discussion had fallen to the wayside in favor of other, more pleasant activities.

But only now, a mere two months before the wedding, had Hermione decided that her parents were ready to get to know Ron. "They really want to spend time with us," she'd assured him when she'd talked him into spending a Saturday afternoon and evening with people he was quite certain loathed him for taking their daughter away.

"You're sure they don't want to shout at us?" Ron had frowned, recalling the dirty look Mr. Granger had thrown him across the platform when Hermione had come home for the summer.

"Ron, we're getting _married_," Hermione had reminded him. "We're going to need to deal with things like this; it's all a part of growing up."

It didn't escape his notice that she hadn't denied the possibility of a shouting match, but Ron had tried to keep from complaining about it after that. He knew this was important to Hermione, and it was to him, too; they were to be his in-laws, after all, and he wanted them to like him. Otherwise, he was in for a lifetime of uncomfortable dinners, which was something he personally wished to avoid. So, hoping that Hermione was right about them getting used to the idea of him marrying their only daughter, Ron had reluctantly cleared his schedule for Saturday.

After finishing his breakfast and unpacking the last box of his things from the Burrow, Ron took a quick shower and dressed in the blue shirt Hermione had suggested. It had been part of a gift from his parents in celebration of his joining the Aurors; his mum had insisted that he needed nice work clothes to wear underneath his regulation robes. Ron was so ecstatic to have clothes that weren't hand-me-downs that he'd forgotten to beg for a new broom instead. He found out later that these clothes were beneficial for reasons he hadn't originally anticipated - namely, that Hermione seemed to find them quite fetching.

After dawdling about for a little while, Ron and Hermione apparated to an alleyway near her parents' house just after two in the afternoon. They didn't talk much on the walk over; Ron could tell that Hermione was almost as nervous as he was, which he supposed didn't bode well. He tried to draw strength from the fact that when he squeezed her hand reassuringly, she responded in kind.

"Right, here we are," Hermione said absentmindedly, turning onto the path that led to the large wooden door of her idyllic childhood home. "This is going to go well," she added, though Ron could tell she hadn't said so entirely for his benefit.

"Of course it is," Ron replied with the most confidence he could muster as Hermione rang the doorbell.

A few moments later, a smiling Mrs. Granger opened the door and immediately wrapped Hermione in a hug. "Hello, dears!" she greeted them in a determinedly cheery voice. "Ron, so lovely to see you again!"

"You too, Mrs. Granger," Ron replied, allowing her to kiss him on the cheek as he patted her on the back awkwardly. Hermione's mum wasn't half bad, he reasoned as she led them into the sitting room. She seemed a bit soft-spoken, though he reckoned that may just be due to her husband's tendency to be _out_spoken. Ron knew she had her own reservations about the situation, but she seemed to express them with more tact than Hermione's dad did, and Ron appreciated it immensely.

"Your father will be down in a moment," Mrs. Granger said kindly as she offered them seats on the sofa. "Shall I bring out some tea?"

"Thank you, Mum," Hermione said with a smile as she sat down next to Ron, who was pleased to note that she was sitting far closer to him than the size of the sofa required. He knew her presence would be soothing for him as the afternoon went on.

The Grangers' sitting room made him feel a bit uncomfortable; the whole place was unnaturally neat and spotless. The furniture always appeared as though it had never been used before, and the only sign that the room was, in fact, inhabited, and not simply an illustration in one of those home catalogues Hermione had taken to browsing since they'd moved into their flat, was the display of unmoving photographs on the mantle of the fireplace - photographs which were, of course, arranged chronologically.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Granger returned with a tea tray and Mr. Granger emerged from his study, offering Ron and Hermione an awkward cough by way of greeting. After making broad remarks about the tea, the group fell into an uncomfortable silence. Ron noticed that Mr. Granger was looking pointedly at his teacup, and he wasn't sure whether to be unnerved by the man's silence or relieved that he wasn't causing a scene. Hermione seemed to be inclined toward the former; the rapid tapping of her foot clearly indicated her anxiety.

"How are things coming along at your Ministry, then?" Mrs. Granger asked them after several moments of nearly unbearable quiet.

"Quite well," Hermione said brightly, visibly glad for the momentary distraction from the elephant in the room. "I'm really enjoying my work thus far, and Ron's just got a promotion."

"Oh? That's fantastic!" Mrs. Granger gushed, and Ron felt the tips of his ears burning.

"I've just finished my training," he said in what he hoped was a humble tone. "It means a bit of a pay raise and slightly more regular hours, so that's nice."

"He's a junior officer now," Hermione continued, clearly eager to talk him up. "He works on cases with the senior officers in the department, but they don't need to be under direct supervision anymore. It's quite important work that he's doing."

"So is yours," Ron said automatically, throwing her a grateful smile. "Hermione's already busy changing the world, see."

"As are you," Hermione added firmly, offering him a soft smile in return. "We're both very happy, anyway."

"Well, I'm happy to hear it. And how is the wedding planning coming?" Mrs. Granger asked pleasantly, pointedly ignoring the way her husband stiffened at the word "wedding." She seemed determined to act as though the elephant was merely a cuddly little rabbit.

"It's coming along very nicely," Hermione answered in a tone that was unnaturally polite. "Most of the logistics are in order now, and we'll be sending out the proper invitations next week."

"That's lovely," Mrs. Granger said, mimicking Hermione's polite tone. "Do you think you'll have it all ready in time?"

"I think so," Hermione replied. "It may be a bit of a mad dash toward the end, though."

"Well, I was thinking," Mrs. Granger began tentatively. "I looked through our old wedding albums and put together a few ideas you might like, if the two of you would like to have a look."

Ron let himself grin, relieved . "Thank you, Mrs. Granger," he said gratefully, hoping that maybe, by some miracle, Hermione had been right - maybe this wouldn't go terribly.

"Yes, that'd be wonderful, Mum," Hermione added happily.

"Excellent!" Mrs. Granger beamed. "I'll bring them down to show you after dinner, how does that sound?"

Ron and Hermione repeated their thanks, but Mr. Granger mumbled something incoherently, and Hermione's eyes narrowed immediately. "Did you say something, Dad?" she asked in an accusatory tone.

"Nothing at all, dear," Mr. Granger said bitingly, and it broke Ron's heart to see Hermione shrink back, deflated, and refuse to question him further. The Hermione he knew would have snapped at the older man in an instant, but the Hermione sitting next to him on the sofa seemed to have accepted defeat.

"Please, Peter," Mrs. Granger murmured. "We talked about this."

"Oh yes, I forgot we'd talked," Mr. Granger drawled sarcastically, apparently having abandoned the idea of remaining silent. "Our nineteen year old daughter's getting married to some bloke we hardly know, but that's alright, innit? We've _talked_ about it, after all."

"Dad," Hermione pleaded. "Why do you have to do this now? Please, I've explained-"

"I just don't know if the two of you know what you're getting into," Mr. Granger insisted. "Seeing as I've got you both here, seems now's as good a time as any to try to address it, wouldn't you say? It'd certainly be a better use of our time than planning frivolities."

"We aren't children anymore. You don't need to sit us down for a chat-," Hermione argued wearily, but Mr. Granger was on a roll.

"You do realize marriage is meant to be for life, don't you?" he asked condescendingly. "I don't know how you handle divorces in the_ wizarding_ world, but generally they're something to be avoided."

"Actually, divorces are quite rare in our world. We know we're in it for good," Ron piped up, the instinct to protect himself and his fiancée momentarily outweighing his slight fear of the elder man.

"You won't be able to run away and hide anytime you have a row," Mr. Granger continued, as though Ron had never spoken at all. "And I understand that the two of you have had your fair share of those in the past."

"In the past, yes!" Hermione cried in frustration. "We aren't perfect, we've hurt each other terribly before, but we grew up! We had to grow up, you know that. We've talked about this, Dad, you know-"

"You're still children!" Mr. Granger insisted, the tone of his voice clearly suggesting that he believed he was the only voice of reason. "Fighting in some bloody magic war doesn't prepare you to get _married_!"

Ron very nearly jumped out of his seat, but Hermione placed a calming hand on his arm.

"Don't you dare act as though you know what the war was like," she said in a dangerously low voice. Mr. Granger had crossed a line, and the fiery, passionate Hermione that Ron knew so well had returned."You've got no idea what we went through, what we sacrificed-"

"Because you wouldn't tell us!" Mr. Granger pointed out. "I'm not saying that it wasn't an ordeal, Hermione; in fact, I'd bet my life and livelihood it was worse than you've let on! I'm only saying that surviving it doesn't give you knowledge and authority over everything in the world."

"Right," Hermione replied with disdain, the fight quickly returning to her voice. "It's not as though we know what love is, after all, clearly I haven't had _any_ sort of good example-"

"Hermione!" Mrs. Granger cried indignantly. "Please, if we could calm down for a moment-"

"I'm simply trying to stop them from making a mistake, dear!" Mr. Granger hollered.

"It's not a mistake," Ron said quietly, but only Hermione seemed to hear him.

"Oh, do try to have some sort of common decency, Peter!" Mrs. Granger insisted. "You know shouting at them's not doing any of us any good. This is our daughter and her fiancé, and we've agreed that we are going to support them-"

"They're _nineteen_," Mr. Granger shot back. "This is ludicrous and we all know it! How can they possibly know at that age? I could barely do up my own ties when I was nineteen!"

"Yes, because doing up a tie has _everything_ to do with getting married," Hermione spat vindictively as she rolled her eyes.

"Don't take that tone with me!" Mr. Granger snapped. "Look, Hermione, I've tried, you know I've tried to understand this, but I can't see how this is even remotely a good idea."

"Then clearly you haven't tried," Hermione replied harshly, though Ron could sense the exhaustion seeping through her tone. "I'm going to go get some air."

She left the room then, and Mr. Granger followed shortly after, muttering something about his study, leaving Ron and Mrs. Granger alone in the sitting room.

"You'll have to excuse my husband," she said hurriedly over the sound of a door slamming down the hallway.

"S'alright," Ron muttered, staring intently at his hands. "I-I understand why it'd be hard for you."

"Still, there are better ways of approaching it," Mrs. Granger replied apologetically. "Can I ask you something, Ron?"

He nodded and lifted his eyes to look at the woman who would be his mother-in-law in a matter of weeks. He was comforted by the similarities between her expression and Hermione's - their eyes had the same sort of inquiring light about them.

"You love my daughter very much, don't you?" Mrs. Granger asked matter-of-factly, her eyes piercing his.

"Yes," Ron answered, his throat dry.

"And you intend to do so for the rest of your life?"

"Yes," Ron repeated firmly.

Mrs. Granger nodded, as though she'd already anticipated and accepted his answers. "That's why I'm willing to support the two of you. I've got misgivings too, you know, but my husband…he isn't willing to give you the benefit of the doubt just yet, you see."

"I understand," Ron mumbled, knowing that if _he_ were in Mr. Granger's place, he certainly wouldn't want to trust his daughter's well-being to a bloke like himself.

"I'll try to talk to him," Mrs. Granger promised as Hermione reentered the room, wiping the corners of her eyes. Ron held out a hand to her, and she took it gladly as she sat down next to him.

"Sorry, Mum," Hermione said softly.

"It's alright," Mrs. Granger told her kindly. "We're all trying. Even your father."

Hermione nodded. "I just wish we could talk reasonably."

"He is being reasonable," Mrs. Granger explained, "just not in your eyes. It works the same way vice versa as well."

"He doesn't need to shout like he does," Hermione insisted. "Honestly, he's one to talk about rowing."

"You can't blame him for being passionate, Hermione," Mrs. Granger said firmly. "This is his way of showing that he cares for you."

"By calling our engagement a mistake?" Hermione asked incredulously. "Please, Mum, if you're going to take his side-"

"There aren't any sides," Mrs. Granger dismissed. "Let's give him a chance to cool off, dears; he'll come around."

The chance never came, though, as a moment later Mr. Granger reentered the sitting room, looking even more livid than he had when he'd left.

"If you must communicate with ruddy owls, can you at least try to stop them coming here?" he asked wildly, waving an envelope around as he spoke. "The damn thing attacked me!"

"An owl?" Hermione asked, furrowing her brow and looking to Ron, who shrugged.

"Most likely from the Ministry," he reasoned, reaching out to take the letter from Mr. Granger, who shoved it into his hand with an air of disgust. The protective charms on their flat were very strong, and it was entirely possible even a Ministry owl wouldn't have been able to get through if they weren't there.

"What's the use in having magic if you can't use it to send a letter without some ridiculous woodland creature carrying it?" Mr. Granger asked as Ron tore open the envelope. "You've always been clever, Hermione, you ought to do something about it!"

But the change in Ron's demeanor caught Hermione's attention before she could retort. Upon reading the parchment enclosed in the envelope, he felt as though his insides were twisting and his head was pounding. The world was collapsing in on itself; it had to be, because this couldn't be happening, not now. He barely noticed as the letter dropped from his hand, and he could feel all the warmth leaving his face as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened.

"Ron? What is it? What did it say?"

True to form, Hermione didn't bother waiting for an answer as she picked up the piece of parchment to investigate for herself. Ron glanced at it again over her shoulder, and his fears were confirmed. Attached was the clipping about their engagement in the Daily Prophet, marked with a giant red slash across Hermione's face in the picture; beneath it, vaguely sinister-looking letters that had clearly been cut from the article itself spelled "MIXING DOESN'T FIX A MUDBLOOD."

Hermione turned to Ron, her expression more terrified than Ron had seen it in ages - in fourteen months, to be precise. "Please tell me this is some sort of sick joke," she managed to choke out, but Ron could tell her no such thing. "How did it find us here?"

"Hermione, take them back to ours, _now_," Ron said fiercely, rubbing at his temples as his stress and anxiety skyrocketed exponentially by the second. "Something about the charms is off, it must be. We're the only ones that are supposed to be able to do magic here. I've got to take this to the office now, it's not safe here."

Hermione nodded frantically. "You're right. Mum, Dad, we've got to go."

"_Go?!_" Mr. Granger asked incredulously. "What on Earth could be so important-"

"Just shut your fucking mouth and do as she says," Ron snapped, beyond the point of caring that he'd just cursed at his fiancée's father.

"Do you think ours is safe?" Hermione asked him worriedly as they stood from the sofa, too preoccupied even to scold Ron for his language.

"I reckon so, given the owl showed up here instead," Ron said, his mind running quickly as he tried to think of every possible explanation for what had just happened. "Triple check though, will you?"

"Yes, of course," Hermione said. It broke Ron's heart to see tears welling in her eyes, and he quickly leaned in to kiss her colorless cheek.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," he promised. "Send me a Patronus if anything changes."

"Likewise," Hermione replied. "Be careful."

"And you," he said in return. Ignoring the indignant and frightened noises coming from the Grangers, Ron turned on the spot and disapparated, hoping beyond hope that they were overreacting but filled with the sickening feeling that they weren't in the least.

* * *

A/N: LOOK it's a plot! Or at least, it's my stumbling attempt at one. Seriously, trying to word that threat in a non-stupid way was difficult and I'm not entirely sure I succeeded. So now, as you can see, there are two main plots to this story - one to do with the letter, and the other to do with the Grangers (and the others, to some extent) accepting Ron and Hermione's relationship. Spoiler: the two will intertwine. Hope you enjoyed :) The next chapter is a long one - but it's been written, so it should be up within a week. Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you for your continued support! I'm happy to hear most of you found the plot interesting - I'll be candid and admit that the mystery plot is sort of means to an end in a lot of ways, but I still hope that it's believable. Anyway, so here we are; one loooong chapter! Lots of plot-related things and exposition here.

By the way, I'm writing a short series of vaguely related fluffy one-shots called "Pieces of Extraordinary." It focuses around Ron, Hermione, Rose, and Hugo post-epilogue. Just if you're interested. :)

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is better than you and me.

* * *

Ron tore through the Ministry purposefully, the mysteriously threatening letter still clutched in his hand. He wondered vaguely whether it was rigged in any way, but he didn't have the time to check. The only thought in his mind as he raced through the corridors was of Hermione's safety; nothing else mattered so long as that was in jeopardy.

"Oi, thought you were off today!" Harry called from his desk as Ron finally entered the Auror Department. Ron simply strode toward him and shoved the letter into his hands by way of greeting.

"This came to the Grangers'," Ron told him shortly, his throat unnaturally dry.

"Shit," Harry said immediately, his eyes widening frantically. "But this looks like-"

"Yeah," Ron confirmed. "She took them to ours for now; something must have gone wrong with the charms. Who's supervising?"

"Price," Harry answered, standing up from his chair. "What's the chance he lets us have it?"

"No chance in hell I'm letting anyone else take it," Ron declared fiercely, and Harry nodded in agreement. Without needing to say another word to one another, they walked swiftly into the supervisor's office without announcing their presence. This earned them an annoyed look from the elder man, who had been busy rustling through a particularly large stack of paperwork, but neither of them could be arsed to care.

"This came to the home of Hermione Granger's parents," Ron said without preamble. "They've left the premises, which were supposed to be under the standard protective charms as of last summer."

Price, a portly, balding man in his mid-fifties, raised a graying eyebrow as he reached for the parchment and looked it over briefly. "Your fiancée, Weasley?"

"Yes sir," Ron affirmed. "I was there with her at the time, but the owl delivered the envelope to her father and left before either of us saw it."

Price appraised the letter once more before handing it to Harry. "We got several like this last week. Sender never followed up with another, in any case. File it away with the others, and we'll put extra protection around the house in question."

Harry frowned. "That's all we're going to do? Sir, this is a blatant threat against a Ministry employee and war hero, and it sounds a hell of a lot like it came straight from the mouth of a Death Eater."

"It's a dead end, Potter," Price dismissed, removing his eyeglasses to rub at his face wearily. "We looked into the others and nothing's come of it, and this department has other things to worry about."

"Well, I'm worried about this," Harry insisted. "It looks harmless, sir, but this is the sort of thing that started a war last time. Quite frankly, I'm going to look into this with or without approval."

Ron nodded emphatically. "We'll take it on top of our case load, sir, if you don't want to take the time."

Price sighed heavily. "And in what version of reality do you suppose I'd let you take your fiancée's case, Weasley? It's a picture of the two of you on that letter, after all."

"The threat was clearly being made toward her, and we aren't related yet," Ron said in a tone of forced calm, barely keeping his temper in check. "It doesn't break any rules."

"Not to mention I'd keep him involved anyway," Harry added. "And seeing as we're the only two that want to make the time for it-"

Price eyed them both with his customary look of annoyance, but didn't seem to have the energy to argue. "Fine. If you insist, then on your own heads be it. Tell Johnson and Parker they're stuck with you on this one. But I'm warning you, you may find it's a cold case. The threats seem to be random, and no violent acts have been committed. Protocol states we ought to drop it for the time being."

"We've never paid that much attention to protocol," Harry said coolly.

"And don't we know it," Price deadpanned. "If the two of you weren't so damn good at this, I'd have your arses hauled out of here faster than you could say 'unfair.' I'll dig out the Granger file and send someone out there to check and redo the protective charms. We'll have an officer on watch from here out as well, just as we've done with the others."

"Thank you, sir," Ron and Harry chorused, and they left while blatantly ignoring Price's mutterings, which sounded suspiciously like "boy who fucking lived" and "pains in my arse."

"I'll get the seniors if you go dig out the other files," Ron told Harry, who agreed. A few moments later, Ron had tracked down Bryce Johnson and Isaac Parker, two senior Aurors about ten years older than Harry and Ron. They were good blokes as far as Ron could tell; they had been some of the few that had managed to avoid Thicknesse's influence during the war, and had even fought on the side of the Order when they could manage it. They were talented, too; Bryce was well-respected in the department for his physical strength and endurance, and Isaac was known for his ability to think on the spot.

When he reached Bryce's desk, Ron quickly explained the case to them, and was heartened to see that they seemed to be at least a little more concerned than Price.

"But you're allowed to work on this?" Isaac asked skeptically. "You're being threatened too, I'd say."

"They only marked up Hermione's face in the picture," Ron pointed out, "and it came to her parents' house. I might be a blood traitor by Death Eater standards, but I'm still from an old family. Anyway, if it concerns Hermione then it concerns me, rules be damned."

"Fair enough. It does look suspiciously like a Death Eater's work," Bryce said as he examined the message the Grangers had received. "Your fiancée's muggle-born then?

"Yeah," Ron replied. "Most brilliant witch on the planet though, so she got a fair bit of flack in school from the pureblood-fanatic types."

"Price may be right in thinking it's just empty words, then," Isaac suggested. "Could be the remnants of a schoolyard grudge. Still, considering it's not an isolated incident, it'd be worth a bit of a look to keep people from panicking, yeah?"

"And to keep my in-laws from moving in with us," Ron shuddered, and the other two cringed in sympathy.

"Nice folks, are they?" Isaac asked.

"Her mum's alright," Ron said truthfully. "Still, neither of them is jumping up and down about the wedding in the first place."

"Least they're muggles, then," Bryce offered. "Can't curse your bollocks off, can they?"

"There's always that," Ron muttered sarcastically.

"Ron, get this!" Harry called as he made his way over to Johnson's desk, carrying three files with him. "The other victims were in our year at Hogwarts, too!"

"No kidding?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Lavender Brown, Dean Thomas, and Susan Bones," Harry replied, laying each file down on the desk in front of him.

"Well, that's something new," Bryce pointed out, running a burly arm through his dark hair. "And all the threats were along the same lines?"

"Susan's was nearly verbatim," Harry answered, pulling out a similar sheet of parchment from the file. "Says here she's engaged to a muggle, so that makes sense."

"And what about Lavender and Dean?" Ron asked, pulling Dean's file closer to him and opening it.

"Lavender seemed to be targeted because of her run-in with Greyback," Harry said. "The message she got referred to her as a 'half-breed,' so clearly whoever's behind this isn't quite in the know - she doesn't fully transform, does she?"

"Nah, she's in the same boat as Bill," Ron replied. "And Dean's mum is a muggle. It's more insults in his than a threat, but it's all the same bullshit."

"Alright, so all four victims were in your year at Hogwarts," Isaac began ticking off items on his fingers as he talked. "All four threats had to do with either the blood status or perceived purity of the victim, so all four threats could be classified as pureblood fanaticism. Where does that leave us?"

"It's got to be tied to someone else in our year," Harry said emphatically. "That can't be a coincidence."

"Anyone you went to school with got ties to the Death Eaters?" Bryce asked. "I can't imagine anyone else would have the gall to do this, to be honest."

"Try all the Slytherins," Ron muttered.

"Right, well, Crabbe's dead," Harry said dispassionately. "That leaves Malfoy, Goyle, Zabini, and Nott."

"And the girls were…Bulstrode, Parkinson…" Ron listed, searching his memories but finding that he'd done a pretty efficient job of blocking them all out.

"Greengrass was the other one," Harry finished, "and I'm fairly certain nobody else in our class ran in that crowd."

"Malfoy, Goyle, and Nott are all Death Eater names," Isaac remarked. "So's Crabbe, but you said he's dead?"

"Yeah, and so's his father," Harry said. "The whole family was dumb as bricks anyway, to be honest."

"But we ought to check Zabini and the girls, too," Ron added. "They were all in that group."

"Right, so that's seven suspects," Bryce said, writing the last names down on a scrap of parchment. "Any way we can do this without questioning all of them? No offense to the two of you, but I'd rather not spend my afternoon chatting with a load of insolent nineteen year olds."

"Believe me, we'd like to avoid them as much as possible ourselves," Harry assured him.

"There'll be wand residue on the letters," Ron suggested. "The words were all cut out from the Prophet, and I'm willing to bet they didn't stick it on with glue."

"And what's glue?" Bryce asked interestedly, but no one paid him any mind.

"Right, I'll send downstairs for their information," Isaac cut in. "If we're lucky, we'll be ID'ing someone within the hour."

_-000-_

"Here we are," Hermione said nervously as her parents stepped out of the fireplace and into the sitting room and kitchen area of the small flat she shared with Ron. She immediately took out her wand to reinforce the protective spells they'd set on the place; though she was fairly certain they hadn't been broken, one could never be too careful. Meanwhile, both Mum and Dad immediately collapsed on the sofa; travelling via floo powder clearly had not been pleasant for them. Hermione could sympathize, but there really hadn't been a better way to get them here quickly, and no one could apparate directly into their flat.

"That was terrible!" Dad exclaimed."You really travel that way?"

"Yes, we do," Hermione replied shortly, unwilling to let her father break her concentration as she completed the last of the spells. She couldn't help but wonder how unpleasant he might have found apparition.

"What's going on?" Mum asked, resting her head in her hands as she began to take in her surroundings.

"That owl shouldn't have been able to come to the house," Hermione explained smoothly, deciding quickly that it would be best to leave out the actual contents of the letter. "We need to make certain the protective charms are still working properly so that you'll be safe."

"Alright," Dad said reluctantly. "How long do you suppose that will take?"

"I don't know," Hermione replied. "Probably no more than a couple of hours."

"This is your flat, then?" Mum asked pleasantly, looking around again. "It's quite cozy."

"Yes, it's the best we could afford for the time being," Hermione answered, rearranging the chairs at the dining table as an excuse to avoid meeting her parents' eyes.

"We?" Dad asked suspiciously. "I thought he was still living with Harry!"

"They're getting married in two months, dear, it makes sense that they'd be living together," Mum placated immediately, while Hermione blushed - it was true she hadn't _exactly_ told her parents she'd be living with Ron, but she had thought it was assumed.

"Right, we're back on that again," Dad sighed, leaning back into the sofa cushions.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake! We can't even _mention_ the wedding now? Well, perhaps if you simply ignore it long enough, we'll just change our minds!" Hermione shot sarcastically.

"I just don't think you're quite ready to be married, that's all," Dad replied in a tone that clearly implied he thought he was being reasonable. "That's what I was _trying_ to tell you earlier, if you'd just listen. And did you say for _Merlin's_ sake?"

"I don't think it's your place to decide when I'm ready to be married," Hermione snapped.

"I'm your father!" Dad continued, raising his voice. "It's my place to raise you, which you've kindly denied me the opportunity to do for the past eight years, I'll have you recall, so excuse me for attempting to talk some sense into you before you throw your life away!"

"So marrying Ron equates to throwing my life away now?" Hermione screeched, swiveling around to face her father properly. She wondered briefly if he was trying to cross as many lines as possible in a single afternoon.

"That's not what he means," Mum said hurriedly, but it was too late.

"Oh, of course not, he's such a lovely boy!" Dad drawled sarcastically. "Barely meeting our eyes, swearing at us before he runs off to his life-threatening job in the middle of tea, playing house with our daughter! Honestly, the two of you going on and pretending like you can shag the rest of your lives away in this tiny shack and not have care in the world, it's maddening!"

"He's trying his best!" Hermione cried. "It's not his fault you treat him like he's scum! And as for today, he's only trying to keep us safe - which, mind you, is a part of his _job_! Furthermore, I'm not even going to dignify what you said about our lives together with a response, because you know _nothing_ about our relationship!"

"It'd help if we'd have had the opportunity!" Dad insisted, rising from the sofa as if to use his height to reaffirm his authority. "This is absolutely ridiculous, Hermione! It's clear to me I don't know anything about you anymore, because I'd never have picked you out as one to act like this!"

"Act like what?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow dangerously as though she was daring him to say it.

"Like an ignorant child, for starters," Dad began, but Hermione quickly decided she'd had enough. Before either of them could say something they'd truly regret, she turned on her heel and stomped down the hallway to her bedroom, making sure to slam the door behind her and choosing not to acknowledge how very juvenile her retreat was.

Curling up into bed and clutching Ron's pillow to her chest, Hermione began to take deep, calming breaths. Her head was pounding and her eyes were stinging, and she felt as though she couldn't do a thing about any of it. The letter had added even more stress to an already tense situation, but it was out of her control now, and she trusted Ron and Harry were taking care of it, but her parents were another story altogether. She was so sick of having the same argument over and over again. It had been going on for the better part of three months now, and she thought it had been getting better - but then again, it had always been her mum writing the letters.

Hermione had always known her father to be blunt, but the things he'd been saying for the past year, and the past three months in particular, were simply hurtful. Though he'd never fully understood magic, he'd at least supported her throughout her years at school. But upon hearing about the war, that support had nearly disappeared, and along with it, all the trust in their relationship.

At first, Hermione had thought that he was simply upset she'd kept so much from them; when she was young, she had been exceptionally close to her parents, but they had predictably grown apart during her later years at Hogwarts. However, her efforts to reconnect with them had gone largely unacknowledged by her father, and Hermione wasn't sure what she was meant to do anymore.

A knock on the door interrupted Hermione's thoughts. "Go away, please," she moaned without thinking.

The door opened anyway. "Please, Hermione?" It was her mum's voice. Hermione rolled over to face her and nodded slightly when she saw that she was alone. Mum tentatively entered the room, closing the door behind her. "Your father doesn't mean-" she began, but Hermione wasn't having it.

"He does, though, or else he wouldn't have said it," Hermione sighed, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "What else can I do, Mum?"

"Hermione…"

"I've tried," Hermione whispered helplessly. "I've tried so hard to fix it, but it always ends up like this! Why-" she broke off to give a great sniff and wipe the tears off her face. "Why aren't the two of you happy for me?" she managed to choke out before she buried her face in her pillow, not wanting to see her mum's reaction.

"Oh, Hermione." She felt the bed sink next to her, and a comforting hand gently touched her shoulder. She tensed at first, but soon relaxed, because in reality, she knew she wanted nothing more than her mother's support.

"I'm so happy," Hermione sobbed. "Or at least, I want to be, but I can't, not when things are like this! Can't you see?"

"I am happy for you, Hermione," Mum said soothingly. "I'm so happy that you've got somebody that loves you like Ron does, and that you're enjoying your work. Your father is too, you know-"

"Don't lie," Hermione choked softly. "He's made it quite clear how he feels about everything."

"He's only concerned for you," Mum explained. "Imagine if you were in his position, dear."

"I've been trying!" Hermione snapped shrilly, bringing the pillow away from her face to meet her Mum's worried eyes. "All I've been doing for the past year is trying! And things were getting better, too, but the moment I come home with the happiest news of my life, _this_ happens!"

"Because it was unexpected," Mum reasoned. "He only wants to make sure you know what you're doing."

"Right, and is he doing that by telling me it's all a mistake, or by insinuating that I'm throwing my life away?" Hermione retorted.

"I'm not saying he's being tactful about it," Mum admitted, "but you know I've had some of the same concerns he's had."

"Yet you manage not to insult myself and my fiancé every time you open your mouth," Hermione pointed out, sitting up and leaning into Mum, who tentatively wrapped an arm about her shoulders, a gesture that temporarily made Hermione's heart soar.

"It's because I know you're a smart girl," Mum told her gently. "But you're also young, and very much in love. It's our job, dear, to make sure that those things aren't clouding your reason."

"Ron's not just some boy, Mum," Hermione explained, well aware that desperation was seeping through her voice with every word. "He's been my best friend since I was twelve! You've always known how I felt about him."

"I'm not denying that he's the one," Mum said gently. "It's clear the two of you have something special. I simply don't want to see it ruined because you rushed into things you may not have been ready for."

"I was worried about that," Hermione confessed, "but it doesn't feel like we're rushing in the least."

"Not at all?" Mum asked, offering Hermione a tissue from the box on the bedside table.

"No," Hermione said, taking the tissue gratefully and blowing her nose. "It's just _us_, Mum. Everything we do together feels right. And we _do_ understand what getting married means, we know it's not going to be sunshine and rainbows all the time. It never has been, but we've got through it together."

Mum nodded knowingly. "Of course, dear. But keep in mind that neither your father nor I knew your relationship was so serious until you came home with a ring on your finger."

"I understand that, I do, but what was I supposed to do differently? Just because I'd never discussed my relationship with Ron at length with the two of you didn't mean it wasn't happening, it's just that the three of us had other things to discuss!" Hermione said, waving her hands about as if to make a point.

"We only needed some time to process it, and an opportunity to get to know Ron a bit better," Mum explained kindly.

"Well, you've had time, but clearly bringing Ron around didn't help matters any!" Hermione exclaimed, gesturing toward the door in reference to her father. She realized vaguely that he could probably hear most of what they were saying from the sitting room, but she found she didn't care one bit.

"Hermione, you know it's always taken your father a little longer to come round to someone else's point of view," Mum scolded. "I _know_ he's not making it easy, and I've talked to him about it, but you have to understand that he cares about you."

"I can't keep having this same argument, Mum," Hermione said quietly. "I can't speak to Dad if he's going to be like this. It always ends the same way."

Mum sighed heavily and squeezed her shoulders in reassurance. "Why don't we give it a week or so and try again?"

"Because I don't think anything will have changed," Hermione murmured, but Mum decided to pretend not to hear her.

"I'll speak with him about it," she said firmly. "He'll come around, dear, because the bottom line is that he loves you. But remember, shutting him out won't make things any easier."

"I know," Hermione sighed. "I'm willing to keep trying, Mum, but only so long as he is."

"Alright, that's fair," Mum agreed. "Now, why don't you tell me why Ron's face turned as white as a ghost when he read that letter?"

"I told you," Hermione explained, setting her face stoically. "An owl not associated with the Ministry, Ron, or myself shouldn't have been able to find the house because of the protective enchantments we had set up around it."

"But that's not all," Mum pushed. "Who was it from?"

"We don't know," Hermione answered curtly, abruptly standing up and making her way across the room to her bookshelf. "That's what Ron's gone to find out. In the mean time, we've got to stay here. Look, I've got plenty of books lying around; why don't we all just read for awhile? I don't think any of us particularly wants to talk any more today."

"What did it say, Hermione?" Mum asked in a no-nonsense tone, unmoving from her spot on the bed.

"Nothing!" Hermione snapped. "It doesn't matter. Please, Mum, let's just read for awhile."

Mum gazed at her unblinkingly for a moment before giving in and nodding slowly. "Okay. But Hermione?"

"Yes?" she asked, turning away to choose out three books from her shelf and taking care to ensure that none of them had anything to do with weddings.

"I still have those ideas from my albums," Mum began tentatively, standing at last and approaching her slowly, a hopeful expression on her face. "I could show you anytime you like. I know things haven't been quite right between us for some time, but you're my _daughter_, Hermione, and if it's alright with you, I want to help you plan your wedding."

It was all Hermione could do not to burst into tears again. "I would _love_ that, Mum," she said softly, dropping the heavy books she'd chosen on the floor and flinging herself into her mother's arms. "I've missed you so much," she whispered, blinking her eyes rapidly against the wetness pooling there.

"I've missed you, too," Mum murmured in return, rubbing her back soothingly. "I hope we can grow to be as close as we used to be, dear."

"I hope so, too," Hermione agreed, pulling back and wiping her eyes once more before bending to pick up the books. "You know, Ron's meant to be working late on Wednesday. We could go out to dinner, if you'd like?" She couldn't help but feel hope spreading through her very being; she couldn't possibly articulate what it meant that at least one of her parents was still willing to make an effort for her.

"That'd be wonderful," Mum said, smiling widely. "Now, which of these lovely volumes is mine?"

_-000-_

Testing for wand residue was a tricky process that involved multiple complicated charms and one rare potion. Ron had only done it a couple of times, but luckily Bryce and Ian were seasoned veterans. Once they had the registered wand information of each of the suspects, they could check for any traces of magic left on the pieces of parchment and cross-reference it with the estimated patterns of magic associated with the known wands. The traces and the patterns could be represented through a series of Runes, which made Ron think of Hermione every time he had to try to interpret them.

It wasn't a foolproof method, of course; it only worked if each person was actually using their registered wand, and even then the science was inexact. Still, even if it wouldn't hold up as grounds for arrest, it would be enough to send them in the right direction. Even better, this way they were able to confirm that each of the threats had been manipulated using the same wand.

"I've never liked doing this," Bryce remarked as they finished transferring the final pattern evaluation to parchment. "These damn things are so hard to read. Makes me wish I'd have taken Runes in school."

"It wouldn't do much good anyway," Isaac said matter-of-factly. "You don't need to know what they mean to compare the patterns. Here we are, anyway. See anything?"

Ron frowned at the funny looking symbols as he attempted to look for any differences or similarities at all among the eight sets of patterns in front of them. "Well, Goyle's looks nothing like any of the others, so I s'pose it wasn't his."

"Perhaps because he's more a gorilla than a man," Harry quipped. "I'd have been surprised if he'd been able to orchestrate all this."

"Still doesn't rule him out as an accomplice, does it?" Isaac pointed out. "You're right though, no sense leaving his in the mix for now. Zabini's is out for the time being too; see how much more collected his traces tend to be than what was left on the parchment? Same goes for Bulstrode's."

"Malfoy's looks pretty similar," Harry remarked, pushing his glasses up his nose as he held one of the patterns up to the original. "But now that I think of it, I don't suppose his suspension is over."

"It's not," Ron confirmed, casting his mind back to the Malfoy family's trial. He, Harry, and Hermione had all been called to testify because of their experiences at the Manor. They had agreed on the condition that their testimony remain private and anonymous to all those not directly affected by the case, something that had suited everyone just fine. Those prosecuting hadn't wanted to draw out the process, and the Malfoys didn't want their name being dragged through the mud any more than it already was.

In the end, they'd managed to wiggle their way out of Azkaban once again, likely due in part to Harry's insistence that he wouldn't be alive but for Narcissa's help, but they had been placed under house arrest for a year and banned from using magic for another three. Their wands were currently Ministry property and would be for quite some time yet. As much as Ron would have liked to slam the bastards with something else, it was highly unlikely that they had a direct hand in this particular crime.

"Right, well, that leaves Nott, Parkinson, and Greengrass," Bryce listed. "They all look fairly similar to me, to be honest, but Parkinson's is the only one with that particular cluster in the center, innit?"

"You're right," Isaac confirmed. "I'd say that's our best bet."

"That makes sense," Ron added fiercely. "She was fucking nasty to Hermione in school. Hated anyone that wasn't Malfoy, actually."

"But do you really think she'd be capable of all this? She wasn't the brightest," Harry pointed out. "There's no way she was acting alone."

"We can worry about that later," Isaac dismissed. "We've got enough to bring her in for questioning. I vote we do that now. I'm supposed to be off tomorrow, and I don't much fancy coming in if I can help it."

"Agreed," Bryce said. "This is the only solid lead we've got, and the rest can wait til Monday."

Though Ron personally wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep properly til the threat was removed, he agreed. The thought that all the victims would be under extra protection from the department kept him relatively calm. Bryce volunteered to collect Parkinson for questioning, and the others made their way down to the interrogation rooms.

"We'll use the nicer one. She'll be more likely to talk," Isaac remarked, leading them into the room that felt the least like a dungeon. Though it still reminded Ron unpleasantly of his Potions lessons, this room was a bit warmer than the others and even had a small, artificial window. The table and chairs were wood instead of stone, which was an upgrade as well. "By the way, Weasley, it'd be best if you take a bit of a backseat on this one, given the circumstances," he added.

"I can try," Ron said reluctantly.

Harry snorted. "He's right, mate. You've been known to get a bit heated when it concerns Hermione."

"Don't laugh," Ron rebuked. "Imagine if it was Ginny."

Harry sobered immediately. "I know. And look, you know Hermione's like my sister. I'll probably have a tough time keeping my cool, too."

"Let Bryce and I do the talking," Isaac told them sternly. "It'll be for the best. Neither of you has had much interrogation experience anyway."

"What approach do you reckon you'll go with?" Ron asked curiously.

"Not too accusatory yet," Isaac replied. "It'll be obvious if she knows something, and then we can start monitoring her as a person of interest. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky and she'll let something slip."

"Unlikely," Harry said darkly. "I said she wasn't bright, but she was never stupid. She dated Malfoy, for Merlin's sake."

"Funny, I'd think that would make her stupid," Ron quipped. "But y'know mate, maybe it's him behind all of this? He might've just used her wand since we've got his."

Harry shook his head briefly. "I don't even know if they're seeing each other anymore. Besides, I don't think he'd try to pull something like this, given the circumstances."

Ron nodded curtly, then shook his head as if to shake out any remaining bias. He'd need to be focused for what came next, not caught up in schoolyard grudges.

Just a few minutes later, Bryce reappeared, escorting a disgruntled-looking Pansy Parkinson, whose expression grew only more sour the moment she saw Harry and Ron.

"Is there any particular reason I've been dragged from my home this afternoon?" she asked scathingly as she sat down. "I suppose it's got something to do with the two of you, then?"

"Actually," Isaac cut in before Harry or Ron could answer, "it's got more to do with you. It's only a happy coincidence Potter and Weasley have been put on this case."

"Miss Parkinson," Bryce continued. "We've only got a few questions for you, and you can be on your way. This will be less painful for all of us if you simply cooperate. As I explained to you earlier, we aren't charging you with anything at this time."

"But you will be at another time?" Pansy guessed disdainfully. "Tell me, then, what is it I'm meant to have done?"

"Miss Parkinson, you were scheduled to have graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the spring of 1998, is that correct?" Isaac asked, blatantly ignoring her question.

"Yes, but you know that," Pansy said, rolling her eyes. "I was in the same year as the Chosen Boy and his Weasel, as I'm sure they've told you."

"And do you keep in contact with any of your classmates?" Bryce asked curtly.

Ron noted Pansy almost imperceptibly tense up a bit at his question, but it lasted only a fraction of a second before she answered: "I was close with the other girls in my house, but we haven't been in regular contact since we've started working."

"Any contact with classmates _not_ in your house?" Isaac continued, eyeing her intensely.

"No," Pansy said, though Ron noted that she answered perhaps a little too quickly. "Why would I want to? I never talked to any of them in school."

"Then would you care to explain to us why we were able to link your wand to several letters sent out to your classmates this last week?" Bryce asked, the first hint of accusation entering his voice.

"I don't know," Pansy retorted insolently. "Why does it matter?"

"I think you know why it matters," Isaac said quietly. "Why don't you tell us?"

Pansy hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Are you sure about that?" Isaac continued, looking straight at her as though daring her to break eye contact.

After another moment's worth of hesitation, she answered coolly, "Yes, I'm sure. You can't arrest someone with that wand tracking crap anyway, and knowing these two you've probably done it wrong. Now, if we're _quite_ done here, I was trying to cook dinner for my aging mother when you so kindly interrupted my evening."

"We can't arrest you," Bryce acknowledged, "but I'm obliged to inform you that we have the right to track your post on these grounds."

"That's an invasion of my privacy!" Pansy accused, but she was shut down almost immediately.

"If you knew our protocol as well as you seem to think you do, you'd know that we won't be reading any of your letters," Isaac said calmly.

"We'll simply be able to track where they're going," Bryce finished cheerfully. He then nodded once to Isaac, who promptly stood up and opened the door.

"Thank you for your time, Miss Parkinson. If you'll follow me, I'll show you out." Pansy stood and hastily followed Isaac, who shut the door behind him.

"She clearly knew something," Ron said fiercely the moment he was alone with Harry and Bryce. "Are you sure that's all we could have asked her?"

"We weren't gonna get anything out of her," Bryce dismissed. "All we can do at this point is track where her owls are going anyway. You're right, though; I think she knows something, and that's why we'll be watching her."

"She might have let up if we'd kept at it," Harry tried to say, but Bryce disagreed.

"There's a reason you're not leading interrogations yet," he said knowingly. "She was a bit scared, yeah, but she wasn't the type that was going to break within an hour. Still, I bet we shook her up a bit, and she can't send out any more threats if we're watching her post."

"But what if she's not the one sending it? Or what if she acts on it?" Ron insisted.

"We've got the victims under our protection," Bryce replied, standing up and ushering the younger two out of the room. "And your girl will have double that, Weasley, considering you'll be there too."

"It's still frustrating as all hell," Ron complained.

"Training's over, boys. Welcome to the _real _Auror Department," Bryce deadpanned.

Once they'd reached the office again, Isaac was already waiting at the desk, writing out some notes on his parchment. "We've got the protection details set up for both Ms. Granger and her parents, and Parkinson's post is under our watch," he greeted them. "I don't know what else we can do tonight."

"Not a lot," Bryce confirmed. "Let's call it for the night, yeah? I've got a short shift tomorrow, and I'll try to sort through it a bit. The rest of you ought to relax a couple days. We can talk to the victims on Monday and look for any more connections then."

They all agreed to this plan, Harry and Ron more reluctantly than the others. After making a few closing notes, Isaac and Bryce left to inform Price that the investigation was, in fact, making some form of progress, while Harry and Ron gathered their things and made their way to the fireplaces in the lobby to floo home.

"At least they'll all have protection on them, yeah?" Harry said half-heartedly as they entered the lift.

"I guess," Ron replied. "I don't like this at all."

"Neither do I," Harry agreed. "You were at Hermione's parents' place before this all happened, though? How'd that go?"

Ron snorted. "Terrible. Her dad's still hell-bent on getting us to call off the wedding. They got in another argument while we were there."

"As bad as the first one?" Harry asked.

"Reckon so. We'd kind of hoped he'd have come around by now," Ron sighed. "Her mum's a bit better, but I can tell she isn't exactly thrilled either."

"Anything I can do?" Harry asked apologetically.

"Nah, best man duties don't normally include appeasing the in-laws," Ron said dejectedly. "Afraid that's on me, innit?"

"They'll come around," Harry assured him as the lift stopped and they exited at the main level. "It's a bit fast, yeah, but it's you and Hermione."

"That's the problem though," Ron explained. "_You _know it's me and Hermione. _They_ barely know her as anybody other than a clever twelve-year-old with books for best friends, and to them I'm just the ugly, tall bloke that's shagging their daughter."

Harry pulled a face at this. "Well, you aren't the prettiest. Maybe they just don't want trolls for grandchildren. Ouch!" he shouted as Ron whacked him upside the head. "Look, Ron, it'll work out."

"I know it will," Ron replied. "Like you said, it's me and Hermione. I just want it to be perfect for her, you know?"

"Yeah," Harry acknowledged, stopping as they came to two empty fireplaces. "I'll see the two of you at the Burrow tomorrow?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Ron replied.

_-000-_

Hermione's eyes glazed over as she read the same sentence about the history of goblins' rights for the third time. Her attempts at distracting herself and her parents with books had only been partially successful. They weren't arguing anymore, but it was painfully obvious that no one was really paying attention to what they were reading. Instead, the Grangers were sitting in an uncomfortable silence, refusing to meet each other's eyes. It was nearly eight o'clock when a welcome distraction finally came in the form of a lanky ginger stepping out of the fireplace holding two pizza boxes.

"I've brought dinner," Ron greeted them with a half-hearted smile. Hermione immediately leaped out of her chair and scurried to his side. He immediately set the boxes down on the table and gathered her in his arms. As she leaned into him, Hermione felt herself begin to truly relax for the first time since they'd left for her parents' house that morning.

However, her relaxation was short-lived; after a few seconds, Dad cleared his throat meaningfully from his spot on his sofa. "Are we allowed home, then?" he asked grumpily.

"Yeah," Ron replied, still holding Hermione in a comforting embrace. "They've redone the protective charms, and our department will be keeping post in your neighborhood to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"So your people will be watching us?" Dad scowled.

"It's just a safety precaution, Dad," Hermione pleaded, disentangling herself from Ron for the time being and turning to face her parents; her father still looked a bit upset, and her mother looked simply exhausted. "Would you like me to take you home now, or do you want to stay and eat with us?"

"We'll be going," Dad said immediately. "We can take a cab, too; I don't like your fireplace rubbish."

"Right," Hermione muttered. "Well, have a safe trip."

"I'll see you soon, dear," Mum said, walking over and kissing the top of her head before following her husband, who was already halfway out the door.

"Good night," Dad said abruptly, and a moment later they were gone.

Hermione felt herself deflate immediately after the door closed, and she sank back into Ron's arms again. "Rough afternoon?" he asked softly.

"We argued a bit," Hermione answered sadly. "It doesn't matter, though, what happened at the office?"

As they sat down and set to work on the first pizza, Ron explained everything that had happened in detail, pausing every so often to answer one of her many questions.

"So anyway," Ron finished nearly an hour later as he finished off his fifth slice, "I think we're going to talk to the victims on Monday and go from there. That includes you, though that shouldn't take long since I know just as much as you do."

"You're pretty sure it's her, then?" Hermione asked, feeling dislike for Pansy Parkinson course through her veins for the first time in well over a year. She had endured teasing from the other girl for years at school, but she hadn't really believed it would ever come to something like this.

"She knew something, at the very least," Ron said. "We haven't ruled out the others, of course, and we'll probably end up questioning some of them, depending on what we learn on Monday. It'd be easier if there were a way to definitively identify whose magic it was on that parchment, but this is all we've got."

"Well, she won't be able to try anything with the Ministry watching her," Hermione reasoned. "But are you sure it's someone from our year? It just seems a bit much, doesn't it?"

"Maybe, but who else would have ties to all four of the victims?" Ron pointed out. "And anyway, the only confirmed Death Eaters that aren't dead or in Azkaban are the Malfoys, and they haven't got the means to do anything unless it's through other people."

"They wouldn't dare try anything," Hermione said automatically. "Not when they're under as much surveillance as they are."

"That's what Harry said," Ron replied with a sigh. "You're probably right. But yeah, there's always the possibility that she's working for somebody else, so that's just another thing we've got to figure out."

Hermione nodded and tiredly rubbed her eyes. "Fantastic time for all of this to come up, isn't it?"

Ron snorted humorlessly. "Yeah, we just didn't have enough going on, did we?"

Hermione sighed heavily and offered him a half-hearted grin. "Well, a little good came out of today. I'm having dinner with my mum on Wednesday."

"That's great!" Ron said automatically with an encouraging smile. "So she's really coming around, then?"

"I think so," Hermione replied thoughtfully as she began to clear the table and pack away the leftover pizza. "She wants to help me plan the wedding."

"Brilliant," Ron enthused.

"Yes, now she's just got to convince my dad that I'm not throwing my life away," Hermione sighed. "He seems to be under the impression that our plan is to simply get married and shag for the rest of our lives."

"As much as I'd enjoy that, we've got other things to deal with," Ron laughed, but his contented expression lasted only a moment before the first part of her statement registered. "He didn't seriously say you were throwing your life away, did he?"

"He did," Hermione confirmed quietly, putting the last of the pizza in the muggle refrigerator she had convinced Ron they needed for the flat. After closing the door, she stood there for a moment, not wanting to look at Ron's reaction. She soon found she didn't need to worry, however; after only a minute, she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her from behind.

"You don't feel that way, do you?" Ron murmured into her ear. Hermione could just detect the underlying insecurity in his voice.

"Not at all," Hermione said sincerely, gripping his arms tightly with her hands, which looked infinitesimally small against his large body. "I want to start _our_ life, Ron, and that'll never be a waste."

Ron pressed a kiss to her shoulder then and squeezed her once, gently. "You'd never let an idiot like me hold you back, anyway."

Frowning, Hermione spun around in his arms so she could look at him properly. "Stop that."

"Stop what?" he furrowed his brow.

"Belittling yourself," she scolded. "You could never hold me back, Ron."

"No, you're too good for that," he said, but she shook her head.

"Please don't. It's the opposite, you must know that. I'm a better version of myself for being with you," she told him earnestly, bringing her hands up to cup his face and ensure that he was looking into her eyes. She could tell that he didn't quite believe what she was saying, so she took care not to look away and was heartened to see that he didn't, either.

"And I'm better when I'm with you," he said quietly after a moment.

Hermione smiled. "See, that's why," she sighed contentedly, rubbing the small amount of stubble on his face with her thumbs.

"What's why?" he asked distractedly.

"It's why I know we're meant to be doing this," she clarified, guiding his face down to hers and leaving a lingering kiss on his lips. "That's why my dad's wrong about us."

"Hey," Ron said sincerely, meeting her eyes once more. "He'll come around."

"I hope so," Hermione replied with another sigh. "Can we call it a night? This day has been miserable at best."

"Course," Ron said gently. "Let's sleep it off, and we'll have a nice brunch at the Burrow tomorrow, yeah?"

Ten minutes later, Ron climbed into bed just after Hermione and shut the lights off with his Deluminator as he did every night. Then, he leaned over her to place it on the bedside table and dropped a quick kiss to her lips before settling in behind her, his chest to her back. She sighed contentedly and settled into his embrace, determined to let the worries of the day slide away for a few hours.

Before she let herself fall asleep, Hermione brought the hand Ron had wrapped around her waist up to her mouth and kissed it softly. "I love you," she whispered into the darkness as she allowed his hand to return to its proper place.

"I love you, too," he mumbled in return, and Hermione smiled as she felt his lips brush clumsily against the side of her head. Encouraged by this simple, intimate action, she allowed herself to settle into a state of complete calm for the first time all day. Her last thought before she finally drifted off to sleep a few minutes later was not of fights with her father or of threatening letters from no one, but instead, of how lucky she was to have the love of her life lying beside her, holding her as they allowed themselves to dream.

* * *

A/N: Okay, so a lot happened here. I would like to point out that I honestly know nothing about police work or the legal system apart from what I've seen on television. I'm hoping that I can blame any weird inaccuracies on the fact that this is the wizarding system and not the muggle system, but please do let me know if something is wildly out of place. Also, as far as I know, the wand residue thing is of my own creation - admittedly to make it a bit easier on the characters and move the plot along. Hopefully it made some sense! :)

The next chapter will be a bit shorter than this, I assure you. It will also be less angsty than this one was. :) Thank you!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you so much for your continued support! Every review I get makes me want to sing with joy, but I'm a terrible singer so I try to resist the urge. Anyway, we're laying off a bit on the Granger drama in this chapter and focusing more on the mystery plotline - hopefully you'll find it enjoyable. :)

Also - happy anniversary, Deathly Hallows. It's been six years since we had to wonder what would happen when it ends, and I'm so happy to say that we haven't had to let go of the ones who we call friends.

Disclaimer: Honestly, I am so sick of coming up with these when literally all of you know that I'm a twenty year old American who's broke as fuck and just wants to sit around and think about Harry Potter all day because J.K. Rowling is my hero.

* * *

Monday morning came faster than anyone would have liked. Sunday brunch at the Burrow had been about as relaxed as it could have been, given the circumstances, though Ron's mind was constantly jumping back to thoughts of the day before. Still, after the disaster that had been their afternoon at the Grangers', it was nice to be around people that were not inclined to shout at them every time they caught sight of Hermione's engagement ring. In fact, his mum had almost overwhelmed them with the amount of wedding planning she wanted to discuss, so much so that Hermione had promised to leave work early the following day to look it all over more fully. After a bit of pushing, Ron had agreed to come straight away after his shift as well.

That evening, they'd eaten leftover pizza for dinner, watched some television, and, much to Ron's delight, had a brilliant shag. But the relaxing end to the weekend was not enough to prepare him for the gigantic headache that would come his way Monday morning. The minute he walked into the office, he was greeted with a stack of papers in his face courtesy of the bloke that was meant to be his best friend.

"That's everything we've got on the case compiled," Harry said shortly. "Read it fast; we're bringing the victims in before noon. You've got Lavender."

"What?" Ron asked incredulously. "Why?"

"Well, it'd be pushing the boundaries if you interviewed Hermione, so I'm taking her," Harry explained. "Then Isaac and Bryce chose theirs and stuck you with Lavender."

"Isn't that some sort of a conflict of interest?" Ron complained, throwing himself into his desk chair and glancing through the stack of papers morosely, but Harry just rolled his eyes.

"Awkward isn't a conflict of interest, and you broke up more than two years ago," he said, as though he were speaking to a small child.

"Right, so I'll set up your talk with Cho for this afternoon then?" Ron retorted, raising an eyebrow so as to make his point.

"You'll be fine," Harry told him unsympathetically. "You're _marrying_ someone else, I'll have you remember, so I think you can handle it."

"Oh right, I'm marrying the girl that this one thinks I cheated on her with," Ron mocked. "You're right, all better!"

"Yes, well, I think Lav got over it after Hermione saved her life," Harry pointed out. "Just read your papers and quit your whinging, will you?"

Ron spared him one more glare before reluctantly going through and reading the case file. There wasn't much written that he didn't already know, but it was protocol to make sure everyone working on the case was up-to-date on everything that had happened before talking to the victims. And besides, it helped to have a clear-cut outline so that he could prepare his questions for Lavender. He didn't want their meeting to take any longer than it had to. The last time he'd had a real conversation with this girl had probably been long before they'd broken up; in fact, the more he searched his thoughts, the more he realized he might _never _have had a real conversation with her. At any rate, their relationship had been a mess, he'd been an arse, and some part of Ron had sort of hoped he'd never have to speak to her again.

But alas, at half past eleven Isaac appeared at Ron's desk with a half-hearted smile. "Well, I've just finished with Bones. Didn't learn a whole lot, but we'll discuss it this afternoon. Brown's here for you, Weasley."

"Fantastic," Ron deadpanned, pushing himself away from his desk and gathering his notes with a heavy sigh.

"Try not to look too excited," Isaac said, raising an eyebrow. "Anyway, we'll all meet up in the back room at one to compare."

"I'll send Hermione your regards, then?" Harry called after Ron as he trudged out of the office. Ron responded only with a rude gesture that left Harry laughing and Isaac even more confused.

Lavender was waiting outside in the small lobby area, reading through a magazine and looking almost exactly as she had during their days at Hogwarts, but for the Healer robes she was wearing and the pattern of light pink scars across her face. Based on his knowledge of Bill's injuries, Ron suspected that Lavender used beauty charms to make them less noticeable and ghastly, and honestly, he was glad for it. The last time he had caught a glimpse of her had been in the hospital wing almost immediately after the battle, and he knew that had the scars been left in their natural state, he wouldn't have been able to focus properly on anything else.

Ron cleared his throat awkwardly as he approached her. "Erm…Lavender?"

"Oh, hi Ron!" she said brightly, looking up from her reading material, which he noted was the latest _Witch Weekly_, and smiling at him pleasantly. "How have you been?"

"Well. And you?" he asked stiffly.

"Oh, I'm doing well," she replied happily. "I'm glad it's you questioning me, you know, I was afraid it'd be some old dolt. So where are we doing this, then?"

"Erm…well, we've got rooms downstairs," Ron replied, gesturing toward the staircase that led to the interrogation rooms. "There are a couple that look less criminal for witnesses and victims, so…"

"Alright then," Lavender said cheerfully, stuffing the magazine into her oversized purse as she stood and picked up a cup of coffee she'd set on the small table beside her chair. Ron made an awkward move toward the staircase and she followed him, a bit of a bounce in her step. "I didn't know you'd become an Auror," she remarked as they made their way down.

"Erm, yeah," he muttered. "And you're at St. Mungo's, then?"

"Yes, I'm just finishing up my first year of training. I really do love it," Lavender gushed. "I'm so excited about it; Healing's all I've wanted to do, ever since this happened anyway," she continued, gesturing toward the scars on her face. "It's not very pleasant down here, is it?"

"No, not really," Ron answered with a bit of a laugh as he led her down the dungeon-like corridor til they reached the room with the artificial window. "This one's the least like a prison cell," he said, ushering her in hastily.

"Right, so, I've got a few questions to ask you about the threat you received last week," Ron continued as he approached the table and pulled out a chair for himself. Lavender brushed hers off with a bit of a scowl before sitting across from him. "Erm, it said in your file that you were home at the time-"

"This isn't awkward, is it?" Lavender interrupted, taking a sip of her coffee and staring at him intently. "You don't seem quite yourself."

"It's fine," Ron said hurriedly, not quite meeting her eyes. "Anyway, the threat-"

"No, you're uncomfortable," Lavender cut in knowingly.

Ron sighed heavily and leaned backward in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Can we just-"

"We snogged for six months when we were sixteen, and you were in love with one of my roommates the whole time," Lavender continued matter-of-factly, and Ron was almost comforted to see that she hadn't given up the annoying-as-fuck habit of interrupting anything he ever tried to say.

"Well, I was kind of-" he began.

"An idiot?" Lavender finished for him. "That's alright, so was I. I called you 'Won-Won,' for Merlin's sake. I can't believe you didn't go running faster than you did."

Ron couldn't help but ease up a bit and laugh at that. "So you admit that was bad, then?"

"We're all stupid when we're sixteen," Lavender dismissed with a laugh. "It's a bit embarrassing now, isn't it? The whole thing, I mean."

"Yeah," Ron admitted. "Not that being with you was embarrassing, just-"

"No, I know," Lavender said kindly. "I wasn't the one you wanted to be with, anyone with eyes could see that. That's probably why I clung on like some sort of parasite. Sixteen and stupid, indeed."

"I was still an arse," Ron replied guiltily. "I'd take it all back if I could."

"So would I," Lavender admitted. "I mean, that necklace I gave you for Christmas…"

"I don't know if I hated that or 'Won-Won' more," Ron responded honestly, pulling a face that made Lavender laugh again.

"But you're with Hermione now, right?" she asked after a moment. "I saw her at the hospital once last year while she was volunteering. I finally got to apologize and thank her for, you know, what happened during the battle."

"Yeah, she told me about that," Ron remembered, casting his mind back to last Christmas Eve, when Hermione had insisted on going to St. Mungo's to volunteer. He'd been a bit alarmed when she'd come back talking about his ex-girlfriend, but it had apparently gone well. "But yeah, we're together," he continued. "Getting married this autumn, actually."

"Oh, you are?" Lavender gushed excitedly. "That's wonderful! I always knew it!"

"Did you?" Ron asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, not always," Lavender admitted. "But it's meant to be, of course! I'm so happy for the two of you!"

"Thanks," Ron said with a grin. He couldn't help but feel his heart soar a bit as he got confirmation from another person, his ex-girlfriend no less, that he and Hermione were meant to be together. It was comforting to know that was the dominant opinion in the face of the opposition they'd got from her parents. "Are we done now?"

"We haven't started yet!" Lavender protested jokingly, taking another large sip of her coffee.

Ron rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "So the threat that you received. Can you tell me what happened, please?"

"Well, I was sitting at home studying for my next round of healing exams," Lavender recalled slowly. "My boyfriend, Scott, was the one that actually got the owl, but it flew away before he could catch a good glimpse of it. Anyway, he'd been in the kitchen and I was in the bedroom, so he brought it in to me. I was studying, like I said, so I ignored it for about an hour. I opened it right as Scott called for me; he works in Diagon Alley as a chef at The Goblins' Cavern, you see, and he'd cooked me a nice dinner as a surprise. So I opened the letter on my way to the table, and, well, you saw what was in it, and we brought it straight to the Ministry. It was quite strange, you know, that they said 'half-breed.' I don't transform."

"So it probably wasn't someone you know well, then," Ron finished, scribbling down a few notes as she talked. "But whoever it was knew enough about your history to know Greyback attacked you."

"Yes," Lavender confirmed. "There are a lot of people that know about that, though. Nearly anyone that's seen my face in the past year could at least guess what's happened."

"But you haven't received any more threats or noticed anything strange since the initial letter, is that right?" Ron asked, looking through the rest of the file briefly.

"Yes, that's right," Lavender said earnestly. "So why am I being questioned, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Yours wasn't an isolated incident," Ron replied, "and the other victims were all in our year at Hogwarts. Is there anybody from school that would have known about the attack, but wouldn't know that you don't transform?"

"Well, I don't know," Lavender said thoughtfully. "I think everyone from Gryffindor knows, and I can't see any of us doing something like this."

"Any of the Slytherins?" Ron prompted. "We have reason to believe whoever's behind this could have ties to the Death Eaters."

"Hmm," Lavender hummed, tapping her foot as she thought. "I don't know that I've seen any of the Slytherins from our year since we left school."

"None of them have come through your ward at St. Mungo's?" Ron asked, a bit desperate to find any sort of new information.

Lavender bit her lip and thought for a moment. "I suppose it's possible, but I can't recall…well, I had the younger Greengrass for a few days last year, I guess."

"Really? Tell me about that," Ron said excitedly, picking up his self-inking quill again to jot down some more notes.

"Well, it was a mild case of dragon pox. Her sister never came to visit her, though; it was quite strange, really. I don't think she had a visitor at all. I don't remember her first name, either, so I suppose that's not much of a help-"

"Nah, something's better than nothing," Ron said enthusiastically. "So Greengrass' sister definitely would have seen your scars?"

"Yes, I think so," Lavender confirmed. "That's really the only thing I can think of, though."

"That's great," Ron reassured her. "Is there anything else at all that you think we should know?"

"Well, you ought to tell whoever's surveying our flat what Scott looks like," Lavender said matter-of-factly. "He said he nearly got hexed trying to come home last night. He'd forgotten his key, and the Auror watching the place thought he was trying to break in."

"He could have been polyjuiced," Ron pointed out, but Lavender wasn't having it.

"It's simply because he's so big, I think, he probably intimidated whoever was on watch," she rattled on. "But that's one of his best attributes, you know; he's like my own personal bodyguard! I mean, his muscles, I'm telling you!"

"Right," Ron said uncomfortably as he stood up, pulling a face as she started gesturing with her hands just how large Scott's biceps were. "Well, that's all then. I'm glad to hear you're doing well, Lav."

"Oh, I'm so glad you're doing well too! And you and Hermione, getting married! It's so wonderful!" Lavender exclaimed, jumping up and hugging him briefly.

Ron awkwardly patted her on the back in return. "We'll let you know of any new developments in the case, then."

"Alright!" Lavender said brightly, leaving the room as Ron held the door open for her. "And do tell Hermione that I want to see her ring, will you? Oh, I bet you bought her a lovely diamond, didn't you?"

"Erm."

"I'm sure she loves it! Do you know how she's going to do her hair for the wedding? I wonder if she'll use that potion in it again, wouldn't that be nice?" Lavender gushed as Ron showed her down the corridor and up the stairs again.

"I-"

"Well, of course you'd think she's lovely either way, wouldn't you? You simply must tell her to come visit me; I do love weddings!"

"I'll let her know," Ron said as cheerfully as he could, relieved that they had at last made it back to the lobby. The meeting hadn't been terrible, no, but he'd forgotten just how much Lavender could babble when she got going about something. Somehow it was significantly less cute than Hermione's tendency to do the same thing. "Thanks for your help."

The two said their goodbyes and Ron returned to the office, happy to see he had some time to eat the lunch Hermione had packed for him before their group meeting.

"How was it, Won-Won?" Harry asked with a smirk when Ron sat down.

"You're worse than George," Ron retorted, pulling his sandwich out of his lunch bag. "It wasn't that bad, anyway. Have you not gone to talk to Hermione yet?"

"No, I did," Harry replied. "She just kicked me out after about three minutes, said she had 'important work' to do. I thought she'd stopped working through her lunch hours?"

"Yeah, but she's leaving early today," Ron recalled. "She's working on wedding stuff with my mum."

Harry snorted. "How'd you manage to get out of that one?"

"Didn't. I'm headed there whenever we're done," Ron sighed. "I don't know why she needs me there, to be honest. She's already made almost every decision there is to make, and I told her I'm okay with whatever she wants. It's like she just wants somebody there to listen to her talk."

"Well, she's a girl," Harry reasoned. "And she's Hermione. She's probably been planning and preparing for this since she was about seven."

"Right," Ron said with a snort. "She _has_ put me in charge of choosing a honeymoon spot, actually, but we can't go til the week after Christmas."

"D'you know where you want to go yet?" Harry asked, digging a brown paper bag out of his desk and retrieving an apple from it.

"I dunno. Someplace warm," Ron said distractedly, reaching into his bag for his second sandwich.

"And that's why you're not making the decisions," Harry declared with a laugh.

Ron glared at him. "You're spending too much time around my sister, mate. It's not becoming of you."

Harry was about to retort, but they were interrupted by Bryce. "If you two're done, we ought to get a move on. This is the only case I've got to work on today, and I want to go home early. Timmy's got a cold and I'm sure Mary's about ready for a nap by now. You'll learn soon enough, Weasley, a happy wife means a happy life."

"Right, we can do it now," Ron replied, shoveling down the rest of his sandwich in two bites and gathering his notes. "Where's Isaac?"

"Already in the back room," Bryce said, ushering Harry and Ron toward the far end of the office.

"I've got a feeling this is going to be quick," Isaac greeted them when they entered the room, which Ron suspected had originally been a storage closet but now functioned as a makeshift meeting room. A table filled almost the entire area of the room, and they had to squeeze and slide along the edges to make their way to the empty chairs.

"Then you lot didn't get much either?" Harry asked disappointedly. "I didn't get anything from Hermione except what Ron had already told us, but I had sort of been expecting that much."

"The Bones situation was almost exactly the same," Isaac added. "You all saw her note; it was essentially identical to the one Weasley and his girl got yesterday, marked up engagement announcement and all. The only difference was that it came to directly to her home, which I'm guessing has got to do with the protective charms."

"Yeah, we've got a version of the Fidelius Charm on ours; most people wouldn't," Ron confirmed.

"Thomas was a bit different," Bryce offered. "The owl came to his mum's, but the place didn't have any sort of protection around it whereas his flat did. He's got no idea what could have provoked it, but he did say everyone in your year would have known his mum's a muggle."

"Yeah, and come to think of it, he was with us at Malfoy Manor," Harry added. "That could point back to Malfoy then, couldn't it?"

"Weren't you the one that said he wouldn't try anything?" Ron asked, but Isaac nodded in agreement with Harry.

"It's not likely they had a direct hand in it, but they are essentially the only known Death Eaters not in Azkaban or in the ground, so there's a good chance they've heard something at the very least," Isaac said seriously.

"You're right. Two of the victims were held at their home last year, and they've got some connection to the other two. That's not to mention the kid's relationship to Parkinson. It's not enough to drag them in here right away, but if we send in a request we could probably talk to them within the week," Bryce continued. "Did you get anything else, Weasley?"

"Well, I thought it was interesting that Lavender didn't see the owl that brought the message," Ron offered as he looked back through his notes. "Hermione and I didn't see it either."

"Come to think of it, I don't think Bones did either," Isaac remarked.

"And Thomas' mum brought his to him as well," Bryce added. "So the only people that saw the owls were muggles?"

"Lavender's boyfriend's a wizard, actually," Ron said apologetically, sorry to shut down one of the only theories they'd begun to form. "He's apparently a bodybuilder that works in a restaurant on Diagon Alley."

Harry shook his head in confusion. "What?"

"Don't ask," Ron said dismissively. "She said he didn't get a good glimpse of the owl, anyway."

"So none of the actual targets saw the owl carrying the message?" Isaac confirmed. "Maybe we ought to bring in those that saw it, then. Any glimpse is better than none. I dunno that'd get us anywhere, but it'd be something."

"I'll deal with it during my shift tomorrow," Bryce offered. "I don't fancy being put on duty when Timmy's under the weather."

"Brilliant," Isaac said. "At any rate, either it's a coincidence or the person behind this was watching the homes closer than we thought."

No one particularly wanted to comment on that chilling thought, so Ron continued. "Lavender also said she treated Daphne Greengrass' younger sister at St. Mungo's last year. The elder Greengrass never visited, but it's still something that's connecting them, and it's possible that could be how they knew she'd been a werewolf victim."

"Her letter did tell her to quit her job, didn't it?" Harry added, looking back through the files. "So that fits together, if Greengrass knew where she was working, too."

"And Greengrass and Parkinson were good friends in school," Ron pointed out.

"That's a lead, then," Isaac remarked. "Still, it'll be much like the Malfoys' situation - we can try to get her in, but it might be a few days since our probable cause could be dismissed as circumstantial guesswork."

The four men sat in the back room for another hour, closely examining their notes and recopying everything they'd learned, looking carefully for anything they'd missed. Eventually, they decided there was nothing more to be done immediately. Bryce promised to look into the other witnesses, and Harry and Ron were sent to file the official requests to interview Malfoy and Greengrass.

"I wish we had something more concrete," Ron remarked to Harry as they dropped the forms off in the supervisor's office. "I'd rather get this done before going back on duty."

"Least we're doing something about it. That's more than Price wanted," Harry said half-heartedly as they trudged back to their desks and gathered their things. They were allowed to leave early only because they weren't on duty and they'd finished their casework for the day.

"How long do you think it'll be before the old bat retires?" Ron asked Harry in a low voice.

"Dunno. The sooner the current supervisors are gone, the better, wouldn't you say?" Harry muttered back. "We need to be out with old attitudes as soon as we can."

"I don't mind Robards," Ron said fairly, packing a few papers into the briefcase Hermione had bought for him when he'd finished training. "He's the only one on management level that's got any sense of what really goes on. Still, it'll be better when you're running the place."

"Me?" Harry asked incredulously. "I won't be that high up anytime soon."

"Well, not immediately," Ron remarked fairly, nodding as they made their way out of the office. "It's going to be you eventually, though. You did more before your eighteenth birthday than half the supervisors did in twenty years in the department."

"Fine. Then I'm putting you second in command," Harry said grudgingly, though it was clear that he didn't actually think the situation would arise.

"Just shove all the paperwork on someone else for me, will you?" Ron joked, and the two joked around laughed heartily the rest of the way down to the fireplaces.

_-000-_

"This is what I'd been thinking for the reception menu, then," Mrs. Weasley said, handing Hermione a stack of recipes. "Ginny and I would be willing to do all the cooking, of course, you wouldn't have to worry about a thing."

"Would we?" Ginny asked worriedly from her spot across the table from Hermione.

"Yes, we would," Mrs. Weasley said sternly. "How does it look, dear?"

"That would be lovely, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione replied politely, paging through the recipes, "but are you sure we'll be needing all of this food?"

"Oh yes, dear, the Weasley cousins will eat it all up," Mrs. Weasley insisted. "I'm sure we can convince a couple of Arthur's sisters-in-law to help us with the logistics of it as well; all you've got to do is approve the menu."

"Well, it looks fine to me," Hermione said carefully, looking through the recipes one more time. "Chicken Kiev is one of Ron's favorites, so I imagine he'll be pleased."

"It's settled then!" Mrs. Weasley declared. "There's another thing off your list, dear. Now, you've finished the guest list, haven't you?"

"Yes, and I addressed the envelopes last week. The invitations are being printed tomorrow, so they'll be sent out by the end of the week," Hermione explained.

"Lovely, lovely. Alright, I think the last thing on my list for the day will be the decorations and set-up. Does that sound alright to you, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked kindly, and Hermione nodded.

"What about your dress?" Ginny asked suddenly. "We ought to go shopping this weekend, don't you think?"

"Yes, well, I want to ask my mum to come," Hermione said shyly. "I'm having dinner with her on Wednesday, so I can let you know after that when we'll go."

"You and your mum are getting along then?" Ginny asked encouragingly.

"Yes, we are," Hermione replied. "She's more tactful than Dad, you see."

"Are your parents still worried, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she returned to the table with another huge stack of parchment.

"They just want to be sure we aren't rushing it," Hermione said dismissively, having no desire to discuss her relationship with her parents at the moment.

"Well, you are," Ginny pointed out fairly. "It's just that it's you and Ron, so it doesn't really matter when it happens."

Mrs. Weasley tutted disapprovingly. "That's not quite what I'd say, Ginny. Ron and Hermione are right for each other. Besides, the two of you have been together nearly two years now, haven't you?"

"Not exactly," Hermione muttered as Ginny laughed loudly.

"They only just got together last summer, Mum," Ginny explained. "Course, it had been a long time coming. That's why it seems like so much longer, I think."

"Oh," Mrs. Weasley said slowly, a bit of a frown crossing her features. "Well, it's no matter. Now, Hermione, what do you think about this sort of a seating plan?"

A few minutes later, the women were interrupted by the sound of someone Flooing into the sitting room. "Mum? Hermione?"

"We're in the kitchen!" Hermione called, a smile spreading across her face at the sound of her fiancé's voice. "How was your day?" she asked as a weary-looking Ron trudged in and threw himself down in the chair next to her at the table.

"Alright. I'll tell you about it later," he said shortly, pecking her on the cheek and leaning his head on her shoulder heavily.

"Naptime, is it Ronnie?" Ginny smirked.

"M'tired," he mumbled, glaring at his sister.

"Well, you're just in time, dear," Mrs. Weasley said cheerfully. "We've just been going over the decorations for the wedding!"

"Goody," Ron muttered sarcastically, sitting up straight and blinking several times as if to clear his thoughts. "So what're we doing, then?"

"Well, we're going to set up the tent like we did for Bill and Fleur," Mrs. Weasley began, but Hermione could tell Ron wasn't listening in the least. His eyes indicated that his thoughts were far away, and he was simply nodding along to everything that was being said without even the slightest of a snarky comment. After about ten minutes, she finally decided to cut in.

"Mrs. Weasley, I've just remembered that I need to be getting home," Hermione interrupted politely as the elder woman went on for the fifth consecutive minute about tablecloths. "I've got a big presentation coming up, and I really need to get a head start on it."

"Oh, of course! We'll continue this over the weekend then, shall we?" Mrs. Weasley said.

"Perfect," Hermione responded, smiling at Ginny, who was dramatically mouthing words of gratitude. "I'll let you know what my mum says about dress shopping; I'd love for you both to be there."

"Now _that_ I wouldn't miss," Ginny said happily.

Five minutes later, Ron and Hermione had Flooed back to their flat. Ron immediately sank down on the sofa and yawned, stretching widely. Hermione watched him for a moment, a small smile on her face, before she, too, sat on the sofa and curled into his side.

"I thought you had a presentation thingy?" Ron asked lazily as he wrapped his arms around her in a way that made her suspect she wouldn't be working soon even if she wanted to.

"Yes, well, I've been ready for ages, but you looked like you wanted to come home," Hermione said simply.

"Thanks," Ron replied gratefully. "It was a bit of a frustrating day."

"Did you learn anything new?" she asked, tracing patterns along his arms. "I don't think I told Harry anything he didn't already know."

"Not a lot," Ron said honestly. "Bryce is going to talk to the other witnesses tomorrow - that includes your dad, I'm sure he'll love that. We're questioning Greengrass and Malfoy, too, but the system's sort of getting in the way. We've got to put in requests for that since we haven't actually got any evidence against them that isn't circumstantial."

"That's something, then," Hermione said encouragingly, though she knew it really wasn't much to go off of. Ron didn't bother correcting her. Instead, he drew her closer and kissed the top of her head lightly.

"Lavender wants to see your ring, by the way," Ron said suddenly. Hermione twisted to look at him and raise an eyebrow. "I had to interview her today," he clarified. "I told her we were getting married, and she said she wants to see your ring."

"Okay," Hermione laughed. "She can see it at the ceremony, I suppose."

"You invited her?" Ron asked incredulously. "Won't that be strange?"

"No, it would be strange if we didn't invite her," Hermione replied matter-of-factly. "I lived with her for six years, you know, and we're inviting the rest of the DA."

"Did you invite Krum, then?" Ron asked. Hermione was impressed not to hear any trace of real jealousy in his voice.

"No, I think _that_ would be weird," she said thoughtfully. "I haven't really written to him since our fifth year, and he wouldn't know anybody very well."

"Right," Ron said. "Well, Lavender says she's got a boyfriend the size of a bodyguard now, so you might want to keep that in mind when you and Mum are planning the seating charts."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Isn't her boyfriend Scott Satter? He's not that big. She was probably just trying to impress you."

"Why?" Ron asked dubiously.

"That's what people do with their exes," Hermione explained matter-of-factly. "They don't want to be the one that's less happy. You're getting married, so naturally she's got to talk up her boyfriend."

"That's mental," Ron grumbled.

"Yes it is, Won-Won," Hermione teased.

"Not you too!" he moaned. "Can we please pretend that never happened?"

"You can call me Herm-own-ninny if it makes you feel better," she said, her voice full of mock sincerity. In response, Ron growled and pinched her sides. Hermione gave a great yelp and jumped, smacking him in the mouth with the top of her head.

"Ow," he muttered grumpily.

"Serves you right," she replied, sticking her tongue out at him before taking pity and kissing him lightly on the mouth. "I'll tell you what, though, I'll make you some spaghetti for dinner if you'd like."

"That would be brilliant," Ron said, allowing a contented grin to spread across his face.

The rest of the evening passed quickly; after they ate dinner, Hermione did end up sitting down to some work while Ron read the case files one more time, just so be sure he hadn't missed something important. He wasn't sure whether he was more relieved or frustrated when he realized he hadn't. Before either of them knew it, it was past ten o'clock and Hermione suggested they get some rest.

Several minutes later, after stripping himself of everything but his boxers, Ron crawled into bed after her and gathered her into his arms again. It was rather warm for body heat, but Ron found he wanted to keep her close more than he really wanted to keep cool. They lay together in silence for some time before Ron muttered in a low voice: "Didn't we fight a fucking war to be done with all this shit?"

It was a sign of their combined frustration that Hermione didn't bother correcting his language. Instead, she silently turned over in his embrace to press a kiss to his jaw.

"I know things are better," he continued, a small smile on his face as a result of her sign of affection. "It's just frustrating, you know?"

"Things were never going to be perfect all at once," Hermione suggested softly.

"I wish they were," Ron said automatically. "They should be, you know? Everything felt damn good for awhile there."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, we got through the worst of it, right? After last summer, with everything that happened, my family was getting through it all - we could talk about Fred and smile, anyway, and your family was finally back together," he explained, feeling an invisible weight lift from his chest as he told her everything that had been weighing on his mind. It crossed his mind briefly that the ability to be completely open with Hermione was probably the best thing about finally being in a real relationship with her - the sex coming in a close second, of course. "Then things started to look up, you know? And you agreed to marry me, which was the most fucking brilliant thing that's ever happened to me, right, and it just seems like everything should be falling into place."

"But it's not," Hermione said quietly, a sad smile on her face.

"But it's not," Ron confirmed, sighing heavily as he traced patterns on the small of her back with his right hand. "It's just…haven't we done enough?"

Hermione was quiet for a moment. "It's not fair," she whispered, unsure of what else to say. "We've got each other, though. We'll always have each other."

"Yeah," Ron said, leaning back far enough that he could look at her properly. "But that's why it's scary, though, that letter."

Hermione shivered as she thought back to the picture that had been attached to the letter - the red ink that had been slashed across her face. He was right; she'd thought it was over, too. She subconsciously brought a hand up to trace the scar on her neck that had been left by Bellatrix Lestrange's blade. Hadn't they done enough?

"Hey," Ron muttered, catching her hand with his and bringing it between them to rest over his heart. "I'm sorry. Let's not think about it anymore, yeah?"

"You don't need to be sorry," Hermione told him quietly. She leaned in to kiss him soundly on the mouth then, and he reciprocated happily. "But you're right, we ought to focus on the good things," she said when they pulled back several minutes later.

"I love you," he said sincerely, bringing his hands back to her waist as she flipped over again.

"I love you, too," she replied, twisting her head around quickly to smile at him, which he returned happily. It would be awhile yet before either of them drifted off to sleep, but the feeling of having each other, whole and well and close at hand, kept them calm until they did.

* * *

A/N: And that's that! I seem to have developed a habit of ending chapters with Ron and Hermione cuddling in bed. Oops. Anyway, I've sort of settled into a pattern of updating every four days, so Chapter 5 will likely make its appearance on Thursday. :) Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you for continuing to read this plot-attempt monstrosity. There is a bit more fluff in this chapter than in the last few, though there will be plenty of mystery development as well. Hope you all enjoy!

By the way - just as an FYI for those that read my work in general - Pieces of Extraordinary was meant to have an update this week, but real life has gotten in the way a bit. However, a new chapter is in the works! Also, _this_ story may see an outtake soon - it depends on whether I can fit everything into the next chapter or not. :)

Disclaimer: I am clearly not J.K. Rowling.

* * *

The rest of the first week after the incident at the Grangers' house passed with little to no consequence. Bryce's questioning of the secondary witnesses hadn't uncovered any new leads (though Hermione had learned via her mother that her father had been a bit unnerved by the Ministry's house call), and the group could do nothing about the case until the requests to question Malfoy and Greengrass went through. The longer they had to wait, the more determined Ron was to change the system as soon as he could - or force Harry to do so. Still, he trudged through a week of being on duty while the requests were processed with little complaint, knowing that the fact he was working on the case at all was really a bit of a miracle and therefore choosing to leave his frustrations unvoiced to anyone that wasn't Harry or Hermione.

Hermione, for her part, seemed to be having a good week. She'd come home just a little after him on Wednesday night with a huge grin on her face after what she'd described as a "wonderful" dinner with her mother.

"She's really on our side about this, Ron," she'd beamed as they sat together on the sofa that night. "It's still hard, you know, since she and I have been so distant these past few years, but she's happy for us, she really is!"

"Good," Ron had said, pecking her affectionately on the cheek. "Think she'll be able to talk your dad around?"

"I _think_ so," Hermione had replied carefully, furrowing her brow in thought. "I was finally able to explain it all and make her see that the engagement wasn't completely out of the blue - it's a bit easier without my dad's shouting every few minutes, you see - and I told her about how we're waiting to have kids so we can establish ourselves and all that, and I think that really calmed her down, to be honest. Maybe it'll do the same for him."

"What, they thought we were going to start popping them out the second we got hitched?" Ron had asked, alarmed. Having children was something he'd always wanted to do, and having children with Hermione sounded like a brilliant idea - in five years' time, perhaps.

"Popping them out?" Hermione had retorted with a raised eyebrow. "Perhaps no one ever took the liberty of explaining to you how child birth _works_, Ron-"

Thoroughly disenchanted with the conversation at that point, Ron distracted her by planting his lips on hers, and the discussion was forgotten for the time being.

After the successful dinner with her mum, Hermione had scheduled a bit of a "girl's day out," as she called it, on Sunday, and he was instructed to stay away for the majority of the afternoon. "It's very likely that I'll be choosing out my wedding gown, Ron," she'd told him matter-of-factly, "and you can't see it until the ceremony."

Ron had tried to point out that she hadn't been planning to keep the gown in their flat anyway, and that she hated superstitions in the first place, but Hermione had insisted. Recalling the simple advice Bill had given him about wedding-related things a few months earlier ("Just don't question her, Ron. It's for your own good."), Ron had dropped the subject and instead picked up an extra shift to keep himself occupied. He hadn't been looking forward to a Sunday on duty in the least, as this was generally when the mundane and stupid criminals showed their ugly faces, but he'd got a stroke of luck the day before - the request to interview Malfoy had gone through. _Finally_, after a week of frustration, they'd be doing something about the case that had been haunting Ron since the moment that envelope had appeared at the Grangers'.

Ron arrived in the office at just gone one, and Harry was already there making notes for their questioning. "Eager, are we?" Ron teased him as he entered and shuffled the large amount of unorganized parchment on his desk about.

"My girlfriend's out with your fiancée," Harry replied in a bored voice, "and nobody was at the Burrow this morning. Anyway, I think I've got a list ready, and Draco's coming in at two."

"Mummy and Daddy accompanying him?" Ron asked with obvious distaste.

"Dunno," Harry said. "Probably not; we only listed Draco as a person of interest. I still don't think he did it, anyway, I'm just hoping this gets us somewhere."

"Cheers," Ron sighed heavily, sitting down in his desk chair and spinning around lazily. "The sooner we've got whoever's done this, the better."

"Right, and before they get a mind to act on it," Harry added.

"Do you think they would?" Ron asked seriously. The thought had been plaguing him all week, and he wasn't sure whether it stemmed from paranoia or legitimate concern.

"I hope not," Harry said honestly. "But it's hard to know, isn't it? I have a hard time believing a group of Slytherins our age would have the bollocks to do anything."

"But if they're working for someone else…" Ron began tentatively.

"Then we'll have a real problem," Harry finished with a nod.

Ron rubbed his eyes wearily. "And here I was thinking I had enough to be getting on with."

"With the wedding and all, you mean?" Harry asked.

"Yeah." Ron swiveled his chair around again, subconsciously avoiding meeting Harry's eyes as he spoke. "It's not that it's stressful, to be honest. We're not going for anything elaborate, you know, so the planning hasn't been too bad, and my mum's apparently had the whole thing in the works since we were about twelve anyway. Still, we're getting _married,_ you know?"

"It's sort of a big deal, now you mention it," Harry remarked slyly. "Not wanting to back out now, are you?" Though he was joking, Ron could sense the legitimate concern behind his tone.

"Never," Ron said firmly, the reply leaving his lips automatically. "Still, it's hard to wrap my head around sometimes."

"I bet," Harry laughed. "It's still hard to believe we're real people sometimes. Properly normal, grown-up adults, I mean."

Ron snorted. "Well, we're doing a decent job pretending, anyway."

"Right," Harry agreed with a laugh. "Speaking of maturity, by the way, we're planning your stag night for the Saturday after next."

"Who's we?" Ron asked warily.

"Just your brothers, maybe Neville," Harry replied. "Not a big to-do, just a night at the pub."

"Drinks on you," Ron quipped, and Harry laughed. They spent the next half hour doing very little but chatting, and Ron was incredibly glad for it. He hadn't spent much time with Harry lately, between wedding planning and working, and it felt good to simply joke around with his best mate for once.

Their carefree hour was cut a bit short, though, in the form of an aggravated Bryce. "That Malfoy shit's here," he greeted them as he approached their corner of the office. "You lot are allowed to ask questions this time, and it's probably for the best. Isaac's taken him downstairs because I'd have probably beat him to a pulp before we got to the room. Arrogant, isn't he?"

"You don't know the half of it," Harry said with a grimace.

A few minutes later, Ron found himself exactly where he'd hoped he'd never be again: face to face with Draco Malfoy. If he hadn't known what Bryce had meant just moments before, he would have done the minute he saw the sneer on Malfoy's face. It had been nearly a year since Ron had last seen it, and he was not surprised to find that he hadn't missed it one bit.

"Potter, Weasley," Malfoy said coolly as they entered the room. "Nice little class reunion we're having, isn't it?"

"Actually, that _is_ why you're here, Mr. Malfoy," Isaac cut in composedly, the look on his face clearly showing that he would not be tolerating any bullshit, for which Ron was exceedingly thankful. "Several of your classmates have found themselves in a bit of a tough situation."

"My condolences," Malfoy replied in a bored voice. "May I ask what it has to do with me?"

"Mr. Malfoy, have you been in contact with any of your classmates from the class of 1998 since you left Hogwarts?" Bryce asked, fixing the younger boy with a no-nonsense look similar to his partner's.

Malfoy frowned. "I'm on house arrest for another ten days, as these two well know," he said disdainfully, gesturing toward Harry and Ron. "I haven't exactly been keeping up a social calendar."

"You didn't answer my question," Bryce continued coolly. "You haven't been barred from receiving visitors, nor have you been forbidden from keeping correspondence. So, have you been in contact with any of your classmates?"

"No," Malfoy replied curtly. "I've scarcely seen anyone I went to school with, let alone kept in close contact."

"Scarcely?" Ron cut in immediately, looking toward Isaac for confirmation. Upon receiving a nod, he fixed Malfoy with a glare. "Any exceptions, then?"

"I've seen a few in passing," Malfoy said carefully, "but like I said, I haven't been keeping in contact."

"Alright," Isaac accepted. "Moving on, then. Several of your classmates have received threatening letters in their post recently, and two of them were known prisoners in your home last spring."

"So?" Malfoy shot defensively. "If you honestly think I've got any idea what you're talking about, the Ministry ought to look into who they're letting-"

"No one's accusing you of anything, _Mr. Malfoy_," Bryce simpered mockingly, and Ron caught Harry's eye, barely suppressing a grin. "We're simply covering our bases. We have reason to believe this activity may be tied to the movement known as the Death Eaters, which we all know you were a part of."

"We were hoping you could give us some direction," Harry added, meeting Malfoy's eye confidently. Ron couldn't help but enjoy the way Malfoy twitched in his seat under Harry's gaze.

"I haven't got a clue what you're on about, but I can try," Malfoy replied slowly, his eyes darting around to each of the Aurors in the room. It was Ron who took the initiative to speak next.

"When was the last time you spoke to Pansy Parkinson?" Ron asked, keeping his voice as calm as possible.

"I don't know," Malfoy replied, furrowing his brow in what appeared to be legitimate confusion. "We lost touch after our sixth year."

"You're not in any sort of relationship with her, then?" Isaac confirmed.

"Like I said, it's been years," Malfoy repeated. "Is there any sort of meaning in this?"

"Did Parkinson have any other connections to the Death Eaters?" Bryce interrogated.

Malfoy let out a disdainful laugh. "Pansy? No way. She's a coward if I ever knew one."

"Interesting," Harry said coolly, and Ron once again took pleasure in watching Malfoy deflate a bit.

"Who did Parkinson spend time with in school?" Isaac continued.

"Erm…all of us in Slytherin, I suppose. She was good friends with the other girls, Bulstrode and Greengrass. She spent time with myself and the others, obviously, but I doubt she's kept in touch with them," Malfoy replied, apparently more intrigued by the line of questioning than annoyed at this point.

"Did either Bulstrode or Greengrass have ties to the Death Eaters?" Isaac asked, reaching for a self-inking quill and jotting something down on the case file.

"Not directly," Malfoy said vaguely.

"Answer the question," Bryce growled.

"Well, Greengrass had an uncle," Malfoy admitted, "but he wasn't close to the family, and he died the year before it ended."

"And you're sure you haven't had any contact with any of these classmates since we left Hogwarts?" Harry pressed.

Malfoy sighed heavily, shifting his eyes around the room again. "I've seen Greengrass a few times," he began slowly. "I've begun a bit of an …_acquaintance_ with her sister."

"The one who stayed at St. Mungo's for dragon pox last year?" Ron asked excitedly. Malfoy shot him a look of contempt.

"Yes, that's Astoria," he said coolly.

"Malfoy, has Astoria been acting strangely at all lately?" Harry asked, clearly catching on to Ron's train of thought.

"No," Malfoy replied firmly. "She's barely out of Hogwarts, you know. She hasn't got anything to do with whatever ludicrous scheme you're investigating. She's nothing like her uncle, or her sister-"

"How is she different from her sister?" Bryce cut in.

"She's less of a downright bitch, for starters," Malfoy began with a snarl. "And she stayed out of the war completely, so whatever is happening, it's_ not_ her."

"But her sister, Daphne," Harry insisted. "She didn't stay out of the war?"

Malfoy sighed heavily before he continued. "She wasn't a Death Eater, if that's what you're asking."

"That's not entirely what I'm asking," Harry retorted.

"Fine. She was sympathetic. So was Bulstrode, so was Pansy, so was I," Malfoy spat. "That's all I know."

"Okay," Isaac said simply. "You can go, Mr. Malfoy. Follow me, I'll let you out."

Ron, for his part, thought he could have asked Malfoy several dozen more questions, but he accepted Isaac's seniority and hung back. "Greengrass, then?" he asked Harry and Bryce as they gathered their papers.

"Sounds like it," Harry said. "We know Malfoy's a shit liar, and I think he's honestly told us what he knows."

"For once," Ron grumbled. "Interesting how things change when he hasn't got a wand."

"At any rate, the Greengrass request will probably have gone through by now," Bryce remarked. "I think we ought to be making a house call yet tonight, boys."

_-000 -_

"Is there any reason we've taken Hermione to the shop with the ugliest wedding dresses in existence?" Hermione heard Ginny mutter in an undertone to Mrs. Weasley as she returned to the dressing room wearing yet another monstrosity of white lace.

"Because it's the only one that's open on a Sunday afternoon! Mind your manners, Ginny," Mrs. Weasley hissed back, though Hermione could hear the sound of her mum's muffled laughter.

Hermione didn't blame Ginny in the least; every dress she had tried on so far had been horrible. The first had been too puffy, the second had looked as though it had come straight from the mid-nineteenth century, the third had been entirely too tight and revealing, and the one she'd just finished modeling had been cut in a way that made her look as though she was either pregnant or carrying a Quaffle under her gown. The experience was frustrating to say the least; a woman was supposed to feel beautiful in her wedding gown, but so far, Hermione had only felt utterly ridiculous.

As she forced herself into the fifth gown, Hermione wondered just how long she would be able to tolerate it. She'd never enjoyed shopping for clothes in the first place, and the idea of choosing the dress she was going to get married in was more stressful than fun in her eyes, regardless of what the other three seemed to think. Her only real comfort came in the form of her mum's presence. This was the first time they'd been out together in ages, barring their rather serious dinner the previous Wednesday, and Hermione was pleased to be spending time with her at last. She only wished it was in a less taxing environment. The longer she stayed in the bridal shop trying on hideous gowns, the snappier she was becoming with her companions.

Reaching around her back to do up the zipper on the fifth dress, Hermione allowed herself to take a good look in the mirror of the dressing room. She felt like vomiting. This dress was even more ridiculous than the first four put together! The bodice was so tight that her breasts were spilling out the top, and while the main design was simple, just as she wanted, the skirt and train were made of so much lace that she looked puffier than the glob of marshmallows Ron always insisted on putting in his hot cocoa in the wintertime. Letting out a frustrated shriek, Hermione ran her hands through her hair, resisting the urge to tug it out.

"Everything alright in there?" Mum's kind voice called from outside.

"I'm not coming out in this one," Hermione replied crossly. "I look like a marshmallow whore."

There was a beat of silence before Ginny burst out laughing. "Well now you've got to let us see!" she chortled, but Hermione did not budge, and Mrs. Weasley immediately began to scold her daughter.

"Is it really that bad?" Mum asked quietly, her voice closer to the door now.

"Yes," Hermione whispered back, wiping her eyes furiously and willing the frustrated tears not to fall.

"Can I come in, dear?" Mum murmured, and Hermione nodded, forgetting for a moment that she couldn't see her.

"Yes, please," she muttered a moment later, and Mum opened the door just enough to slip in.

"Oh dear," Mum gasped, her eyes widening immediately at the sight of Hermione, who immediately burst into angry tears. "Oh no, love, it's not that bad-"

"Yes it is!" Hermione sobbed, collapsing to the ground and hugging her knees - or what she thought were her knees, anyway, she couldn't really feel them through all the lace.

"It's alright, Hermione," Mum soothed, crouching down as close as she could and wrapping an arm about her shoulders. "You've only tried on a few dresses; there are plenty more!"

"But I look ridiculous!" Hermione cried. She knew on some level that she was being a bit childish, but she simply couldn't help it. "I've looked ridiculous in all of them! What if it's not the dresses, Mum, what if it's just me?"

"Now _that's_ ridiculous, dear," Mum said firmly. "What's really bothering you?"

Hermione took a few deep, calming breaths, reminding herself that now was _not_ the time to fall apart over something silly. "I just…is it stupid…yes, it's stupid, never mind-"

"Nothing you're feeling is stupid," Mum said kindly, squeezing her shoulders comfortingly.

"I just want this wedding to be perfect," Hermione whispered finally.

"Oh?" Mum replied interestedly.

"I know it won't be; nothing is," Hermione continued. "It's just - with everything that's been happening, I wanted this one thing, you know? Nothing's going right, nothing's how I planned it. I wanted Dad to walk me down the aisle, and who knows if that will happen, and I want Ron to be waiting there, which he will be, yes, but I wanted him to be looking at me like I'm…"

"Beautiful?" Mum guessed. "He already does, dear. The boy is smitten. I think that's part of what scares your father so much, seeing any man looking at you like Ron does."

Hermione rolled her eyes with a small smile. "But you know what I mean, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," Mum replied, a look of determination crossing her eyes. "Sit down and take that atrocity off, dear. Now, what exactly _were_ you looking for before the shopkeeper brought you these?"

"Something simple," Hermione said in a small voice, reaching around to unzip the dress and letting out a deep breath as her breasts and mid-section came free. "No lace, please."

"You wait right here," Mum ordered, leaving Hermione to climb out of the heaps of lace alone.

Ten minutes later, Mum ducked into the dressing room again, this time with three dresses in tow. "I'll take these back," she said gesturing toward the five rejects, "and _you_ try these. They're far less expensive, you see, but I think you'll find them more to your liking."

Hermione took the new gowns with a small smile, wishing as hard as she could that her mother was right. This time, she hung the three up side by side and looked them over before trying any on. The middle one caught her eye immediately; while the other two were quite plain, this one had a simple design made out of small white beads across the bodice and trailing down to the skirt, and the barely-there cap sleeves were made of lace. However, that was the only lace on the dress; the skirt was elegant, and the train was relatively short.

Her grin growing wider, Hermione immediately began to pull it on, as quickly as she could without ripping it. Hope began to flourish tenfold in the pit of her stomach as she weaved her arms through the sleeves and pulled the zipper up, her heart rejoicing as she realized she could still breathe. Looking up at the finished product in the mirror, she beamed at her reflection and once again tried to hold back tears, this time for an entirely different reason.

"Are you alright in there, dear?" Mum's voice called through the door.

"I love you so much, Mum," Hermione called back softly, wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

"I love you, too," came Mum's amused reply. "Are we allowed to see?"

Taking a deep breath, Hermione turned toward the door and opened it. "What do you think?" she asked Mum, who had brought a hand to her mouth immediately and looked on the verge of tears herself.

"Beautiful," Mum whispered, reaching out to take Hermione's hand.

"Well, let us have a look!" Ginny called impatiently from behind Mum, who quickly moved to the side so that Ginny and Mrs. Weasley could see. "Oh, Hermione!" Ginny gushed, rushing forward and taking her other hand. "It's perfect!"

"You look so beautiful, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley added as she followed her daughter, her hands dabbing at her eyes.

"I'm going to marry Ron in this dress," Hermione said breathlessly, more to herself than to the others.

"If he can pick his jaw up off the ground long enough to say his vows, yes!" Ginny quipped, and they all laughed jovially.

"No need to try on the other two, then?" Mum asked with a smirk.

"No way," Hermione replied emphatically, moving toward the nearest mirror and spinning around a few times to see herself from every angle, giggling madly as she did so. "I'm getting married!" she exclaimed joyfully, vaguely hearing the others laughing along behind her.

She hadn't felt quite this happy or carefree since the moment she'd accepted Ron's proposal nearly four months previously. Hermione knew she was silly for thinking it, but it was as though finding the perfect dress was a reassurance, somehow. It was a reminder of why she was doing all this in the first place. She loved Ron and he loved her, and they were going to be together for the rest of their lives. And as for everything else - she thought to herself as her mum explained to the saleswoman that yes, they would be taking this gown even though it was less expensive - everything else was simply secondary.

_-000-_

"Sit down Weasley, you're tiring me out," Bryce called from his desk.

Ron pulled a face at him as he paced around the office for the tenth time in the past hour. Because only two Aurors were generally needed on house calls, Isaac and Harry had gone to the Greengrass residence alone, leaving Ron and Bryce to stay back. Bryce had taken the opportunity to catch up on paperwork. Ron had taken the opportunity to attempt to wear a hole in the floor.

"Shouldn't they be back soon?" Ron asked tersely.

"Probably," Bryce replied. "In the mean time, sit down."

Pulling out a chair in front of the elder man's desk, Ron reluctantly complied. "Sorry," he muttered.

"This is why we generally don't let blokes work the cases involving their girls," Bryce explained tiredly. "You're too bloody nervous."

"I'd have made Harry involve me anyway," Ron dismissed. "And I'm only nervous cos I'm not there."

Bryce sighed heavily. "How's the wedding planning coming, Weasley?"

Ron narrowed his eyes at Bryce's blatant attempt to change the subject. "Fine."

"And when's the big day?" Bryce asked in a tone that was very nearly mocking.

"The fourth of September," Ron answered shortly, turning around to glance at the office door again.

"What's your girl up to today?" Bryce continued, snapping his fingers to get Ron's attention.

"Dress shopping," Ron replied distractedly.

Bryce chortled. "I remember that day well. Mary came home all weepy and wouldn't let me see the thing. I wasn't sure what to think."

Ron grunted in acknowledgement and began tugging at a loose string on his robe. "Do you think something went wrong?"

"No," Bryce snapped. "Distract me, Weasley. Tell me about your bird."

"Hermione?" Ron asked confusedly. "Everyone knows about Hermione."

"Yeah, I know she's the prodigy in Magical Creatures, but tell me about _your_ Hermione," Bryce pressed.

"That _is_ my Hermione," Ron said proudly. "She's brilliant. Harry and I would've been dead before our twelfth birthdays without her."

"That's why you love her, then?" Bryce asked shrewdly.

"Well, yeah, along with everything else about her," Ron answered, running a hand through his hair uncomfortably. "What's this about?"

"Takes a special kind of girl to make a bloke want to settle down before he's twenty," Bryce remarked casually. "I'd be the first to admit that I messed about for years before I met Mary."

"Well, I already knew Hermione," Ron retorted. "Shouldn't Harry and Isaac-"

"Potter, has he got a girlfriend?" Bryce interrupted.

"Yeah, my sister," Ron shot back.

"Really?" Bryce laughed incredulously.

"You're doing a piss poor job of trying to distract me," Ron said, standing up again and resuming his pacing.

"Who's your sister?" Bryce asked, ignoring him.

"Her name's Ginny. She's flying for Holyhead next season," Ron replied.

"What position?" Bryce continued, clearly impressed.

"Chaser," Ron said, glancing at the door again. "She's versatile, though, makes a decent Seeker."

"Did you play?" Bryce asked, putting his paperwork away for good now.

"I was a Keeper my last two years at school," Ron replied. "Nothing special, though, couldn't have gone professional even if I'd wanted to. Harry could've. He was a brilliant Seeker."

"I've heard," Bryce replied. "The two of you were Gryffindor, weren't you? I played Beater for the team back in my day."

"Yeah, we all were. My brothers were Beaters in school, too," Ron said, a bit of a pang hitting his chest as he remembered Fred, flying about with George and hitting bludgers left and right.

"Did your whole family play?" Bryce asked interestedly, distracting Ron again.

"All but Percy," Ron replied. "He's not terrible; he's played Chaser a few times at home, but if you've met him you'd know it's not really his thing. But yeah, the rest of us did. Even Dad did, back in the day. We grew up on it; we've got a big yard, so if we didn't fly too high we could play whenever we wanted."

"Bet family reunions are a hell of a lot more fun at yours," Bryce laughed. "You could almost field two full teams with your lot."

"If we force the non-flyers like Hermione into it, yeah," Ron replied. "But we size it down a bit, fewer Beaters and Chasers when we play."

"Your girlfriend doesn't fly?" Bryce asked.

"Nah, she always hated it," Ron said, fully turning his attention to Bryce. "I'm trying to teach her now, though. She's never liked that she couldn't just learn it from a book, see."

"Talking about Hermione?" came a familiar voice from behind them. Ron let out a sigh of relief when he turned and saw Harry and Isaac walking through the doorway.

"Where the hell have you been?" Ron asked. "You better have a shitton of leads."

"I wish we did," Isaac said honestly, summoning chairs for himself and Harry to sit around Bryce's desk. "Daphne Greengrass wasn't home. We tried to wait it out, but we ended up just talking to the sister - Astoria - instead."

"I can see why Malfoy likes her," Harry remarked wearily. "She's almost like his other half, but without the overtones of Death Eater."

"A bit of a snob, then?" Bryce guessed.

"We didn't get a lot out of her," Harry said.

"But it wasn't lack of cooperation, really," Isaac added. "She seemed willing enough to help, though I reckon she knew a bit more than she let on."

"She _did_ admit that she let it slip to her sister about Lavender, though, so that's something," Harry said, pulling out the case file and notes he'd brought with him. "Firms up the connections, anyway. Astoria also confirmed the close relationship between her sister and Parkinson, so we've got enough reason to watch Daphne's post now."

"Is that all?" Ron asked disappointedly.

"I'm afraid so," Isaac replied. "She claimed she didn't know a thing about the threats, and I don't think she was bluffing. I got the impression she and her sister aren't close."

"I agree," Harry said. "And I don't think there's any point talking to Daphne, to be honest. It'll just turn out the same way as Parkinson, and we're already watching them both anyway."

"So what do we do next?" Ron prompted.

"I don't know that there's much we can do," Isaac replied honestly. "We can't arrest either of them til we have some sort of concrete evidence, which we haven't, and the only other possible lead is the third friend, Bulstrode. We can submit a request to talk to her, but that'll be another week at least."

"If we're right and this traces back to them, they aren't going to try anything," Bryce reasoned. "They know we're on to them."

"And if they're working for someone else?" Harry asked concernedly.

"That's why we've got the victims protected," Isaac said calmly. "The threats occurred within one week, and since we brought Parkinson in there hasn't been any similar activity. I think this is all we can do for the time being."

After collectively reviewing the case file once more, the foursome went on their way early in the evening, an air of disappointment and frustration hovering over them. Ron was about ready to go home and take a long relaxing bath, but, remembering that it was his turn to come up with dinner, he made a stop on the way to pick up Chinese take-away. The whole way, his thoughts were filled with threatening messages and images of classmates he'd hoped would have vanished into thin air post-Hogwarts. This only added to his stress, and by the time he got back to the flat, he was ready to forgo the bath and simply collapse into bed straight away after dinner.

That was, of course, until he arrived home and was greeted almost immediately by an armful of Hermione.

Dropping the take-away bag as she jumped into his arms and kissed him, Ron wrapped her in his embrace and happily returned the favor, complying immediately when she began to maneuver them toward the sofa.

"Not that I mind being greeted this way-" Ron began to say when they finally broke apart for air, but his statement was cut off as she began to tug his robes off in a very distracting manner.

"I love you," Hermione breathed before fiercely attacking his lips again, and this time he didn't dare question it.

Forty _very_ pleasant moments later, during which he had multiple chances to return her sentiment, they found themselves lying naked on the sofa, a pillow Hermione had transfigured into a blanket wrapped around them. The Chinese take-away still lay forgotten on the floor near the door.

"I found my dress today," Hermione murmured into Ron's chest as he let his fingers run through her hair.

"Can you find your dress every day?" Ron teased, dropping a kiss on top of her head.

She tapped his chest lightly and tutted. "Typical."

"Mhm," Ron agreed lazily, shifting so that she was lying half on top of him. "This is nice."

"It is," Hermione concurred with a smile before leaning up and kissing him lightly on the lips.

"Can marriage just be like this?" Ron asked with an easy grin, moving his hands down to graze her backside.

"Shagging in the sitting room? Unlikely," Hermione replied, poking him in the stomach.

"Doesn't have to be the sitting room," Ron said sincerely. "I'm open to any number of locations. It doesn't just have to be the shagging, either; this part's nice, too."

Hermione laughed good-naturedly. "Unfortunately, my dear fiancée, there's the small matter of the real world that needs to be dealt with."

"Ah, fuck that," Ron dismissed, running his hands up and down her back. "That just makes it all complicated. This is simple...better."

"Yeah?" Hermione inquired, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"I just mean…when we're like this, I can just say that I love you, because I do, and that's all there is to it," Ron told her thoughtfully.

"You can say that anytime, as long as you mean it," Hermione remarked with a small smile.

"Yeah, but it's easier like this," Ron said. "It's just us; nobody trying to mess it up."

"Nobody can mess up us now," Hermione replied automatically.

"Won't stop them from trying," Ron said doubtfully.

"We won't let them win," Hermione told him firmly.

"Cos we have this," Ron finished, smiling at the realization that they could finish each other's thoughts and determinedly not thinking about what his brothers might say if they knew that particular tidbit.

"Exactly." She beamed at him, and he leaned in to kiss her again. The take-away could wait awhile longer.

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A/N: So yes, a bit more lighthearted than the last few, I'd say. And it was fun for Hermione to be a bit of a girly-girl because let's be real, we'd probably all be like that when choosing a wedding dress. Also, here's a link to the wedding gown I based Hermione's off of, just remove the spaces: www . weddingen wp-content/uploads/2013/07/classic-wedding-dress-n ew-fashion-trends-2013 . jpg

Mr. Granger makes his grand reappearance next time - which should be posted on Monday! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Now, I don't want to be seen as begging for reviews or anything, because the fact that anybody reads this at all still blows my mind a little, but I really would like to hear what you think, if you've got the time. Thank you for reading! :)


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thank you for continuing to read and review and for generally being lovely! Quite a lot happens in this chapter, even though it's not the longest…hopefully you enjoy :)

Disclaimer: I wish I was J.K. Rowling.

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Much to Ron's irritation, the questioning of Millicent Bulstrode did not bring about any new leads; in fact, they had absolutely nothing connecting her to the investigation other than her friendship with Greengrass and Parkinson. Having utilized their last resource, the four Aurors realized they had reached a standstill. There wasn't much to be done until they had some sort of concrete evidence, and, as Bryce had pointed out, it was unlikely they'd gather any if the women knew they were being watched. Though a niggling feeling in the back of Ron's mind told him the situation was far from diffused, putting the case on the backburner was all they could do for the time being.

Eventually, the days had turned into weeks, and it had now been nearly a full month since they had last made any headway in the case. Ron had instead busied himself with a slew of on-duty shifts that left him too exhausted to dwell too much on the unsolved mysteries of the case. The only break in the monotony had come in the form of his stag party, which, despite Harry's assurances, had turned into quite the drunken debacle. Ron had woken up the day after completely starkers in the first floor bathtub at Grimmauld Place by a disenchanted Hermione, who had stayed there with Ginny the night before. She went on to inform him that he and Harry had showed up at just gone two in the morning, intent on serenading them with songs by the popular muggle music group, The Beatles, whom Ron swore he'd never heard of in his life.

"Well, you certainly thought you knew 'I Want to Hold Your Hand' well enough," Hermione had tutted, rolling her eyes as she offered him a glass of water.

"And how did I end up in the bathtub?" Ron asked dubiously.

"You wouldn't come upstairs with me, and I was too tired to argue," Hermione sighed.

Ron found it hard to believe that even a drunken version of himself would have refused to go to bed with Hermione, but he didn't voice that thought aloud, nor did he complain about his now incredibly sore back - Hermione would probably have thought it served him right for having a few too many the night before.

Hermione, too, was keeping herself busy: she'd recently received the first major case of her career - as far as Ron could tell, it was something to do with the rights of house elves in dark wizard communities. Hermione had long since accepted the fact that house elves generally had no desire to be freed, but that did not stop her from fighting to improve their situation. She had been overjoyed when she'd been presented with the case; she hadn't expected to be able to do something so substantial so soon after she'd begun her job, and she was determined to make the most of the opportunity. So, true to character, she was spending most of her time focusing on her work.

Additionally, the wedding was now only four weeks away, and both Ron and Hermione were spending the majority of their limited free time going over the final details of the ceremony and reception.

Somehow, Hermione had also managed to spend some time with her parents, and, much to Ron's relief, she'd come back looking just a little less dejected every time she spent an evening with them. Eventually, she seemed to think there had been some sort of breakthrough, and decided that the time had come to try bringing Ron around again.

"My dad was _wonderful_ today," she'd said after the last visit. "He didn't say _one_ hurtful thing the entire time I was there!"

"Really?" Ron had replied with a smile, pulling her into his arms happily.

"Yes!" she beamed up at him. "Mum's been talking to him about it all nonstop, you know, passing along what I've told her to try to ease him up a bit, but they haven't mentioned the wedding much while I've been around until today. But he really listened to me when I talked, and he didn't shout once!"

"So he's alright with it now?" Ron asked.

Hermione bit her lip and thought about it. "Well, I can tell he's still…you know, wary, but he's trying now, much more than he was before, and he said I should bring you with me next time."

Ron stiffened a bit. "Do you think it'll actually go well this time?"

"Yes," Hermione said firmly, resting her head against his chest. "I really, really do. And if not, I'll hex him."

Ron chuckled. "I'm sure that'd patch things right up."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "He's really trying, Ron. We're all going to be a proper family next month, after all," she glanced up at him, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "He even - he promised to walk me down the aisle!"

"That's brilliant!" Ron told her tenderly, rubbing circles on the small of her back as he spoke.

"I know," Hermione said, the happiness rolling off of her in waves. "Everything's starting to come together; it's wonderful!"

"Yeah, it is," Ron enthused as he maneuvered them toward the sofa.

"I was so scared, you know," Hermione continued, obeying his tug on her hand and sitting down next to him, curling into his side. "That it wouldn't be, I mean."

"Wouldn't be what?" Ron asked.

"That it wouldn't be perfect," Hermione admitted quietly, almost ashamedly.

"We're getting married, it was always gonna be perfect," Ron dismissed absentmindedly, shifting around to get into optimal cuddling position, a phrase he would never admit he'd ever used, ever.

Hermione shook her head. "That's not what I mean."

"Care to explain?" Ron prompted, fixing her with a look that he hoped would remind her that most of the time, he didn't really know what she was going on about if she didn't clarify.

"I just-" she hesitated. "It didn't feel right before. Well, the part about being with you did," she added hurriedly before his face could fall.

"What wasn't right then?" Ron asked confusedly. "Just the thing with your parents, you mean?"

"Mostly," Hermione replied thoughtfully. "It's just - we're taking a big step, and I don't want anyone to have any misgivings."

Ron frowned. "You aren't having misgivings, are you?"

"Of course not," Hermione said immediately, rolling her eyes again. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yeah, I am," Ron protested. "But you're saying it didn't feel right, which isn't exactly what a bloke wants to hear a month before his wedding, mind you!"

"Well, it did feel right," Hermione said, "but it also didn't, you know?"

"No," Ron said, shaking his head slowly. "I've always thought it felt right."

"Well, so have I. Otherwise I wouldn't have said yes," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "But it's still a bit of a risk we're taking, and it didn't feel right not to have everyone's support."

"Okay," Ron replied, beginning to wrap his head around what she was saying. "I dunno that it's a risk, though. We're just trying to be normal, really."

"Well, we're promising we're only _ever_ going to be with each other, and that's it," Hermione emphasized. "That's a fairly big risk, really, but we wouldn't be taking it if we didn't think we were going to be successful."

"So you wanted everyone to think so, too," Ron realized.

"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "My parents had a point, you know. We're quite young, and people in the muggle world very rarely get married at our age. The only reason I'm not scared out of my mind is because it's _you._"

"I am a very desirable catch, aren't I?" Ron teased, waggling his eyebrows playfully. As much as he loved that he and Hermione could be honest with each other now, he couldn't let the conversation be _entirely _serious.

Hermione laughed good-naturedly. "It's not just that," she admitted. "It's that you're my best friend, and the love of my life."

Ron took that moment to swoop in and kiss her on the cheek. "Goes both ways. That's why we couldn't be like this with other people," he remarked wisely.

"Exactly." Hermione smiled, leaning in and kissing him quickly on the lips. "You're a good kisser, too," she added as an afterthought.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Ron asked with a laugh.

"It's a reason to keep you around," Hermione teased.

"Mm," Ron hummed in agreement, moving to capture her lips again. "You've got boobs," he informed her seriously when they pulled away.

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "So does half the world's population."

"Yours are attached to _you_, though," Ron clarified, bringing his hands up to cup the body parts in question briefly. "And yours are bouncy."

"Yes, well, that's a very important part of our relationship, the bounciness," Hermione said in a tone that downright oozed mock sincerity.

Ron laughed contentedly and brushed his lips across the part of her that was closest to him, which happened to be the side of her forehead. "So next weekend, then?"

"Next weekend," Hermione confirmed with a wide grin. "It's going to work out perfectly."

As he wrapped his arms more firmly around her and pressed another kiss to her cheek, Ron couldn't have been more inclined to agree.

The next week had passed just as quickly as the three before it, and soon Hermione found herself fixing the buttons on Ron's dress shirt for the fourth time in as many minutes. Despite her father's recent one-eighty, she was still nervous that the rug would be pulled from under her during this visit.

"I think they're alright, Hermione," Ron told her impatiently.

"Yes, I suppose so," Hermione muttered, turning instead to the mirror to mess with her hair once more.

"You're nervous," Ron said perceptively.

"So are you," Hermione shot back, taking in her reflection for another moment before briskly turning around and walking out of the room.

"I'm meant to be," Ron argued, trailing along behind her.

"Sorry," Hermione replied absentmindedly, reaching for her handbag off the back of one of the kitchen chairs before turning round to face him. "It's going to go well," she said confidently, deciding that perhaps, if she willed it hard enough, it really would.

"Yes," Ron confirmed, reaching for her free hand and nodding, a sign for her to turn on the spot.

A moment later, they were standing in her parents' garden. "I've been apparating here for awhile now," Hermione explained in response to his questioning look, not daring to let go of his hand as they approached the back door. "It's easier than walking from the alley."

Ron nodded idly. "Shall I knock, then?" Without waiting for an answer, he rapped lightly on the door three times.

Just a moment later, Dad came to the door wearing a smile that was a strangely both genuine and strained. "Hello, Hermione!" he said pleasantly, reaching out to give her a one-armed hug. "And it's nice to see you again, Ron," he added, offering a hand to the younger man, who gladly shook it.

"Is that them, Peter?" came Mum's voice from inside. "Let them in, dear!"

"Of course!" Dad called, stepping back from the door so Ron and Hermione could properly enter the house. "Your mum's just finishing dinner," he explained, leading them through the dining room and into the sitting room.

"How are things at the practice, Dad?" Hermione asked as she settled next to Ron on the sofa.

"Everything's going quite well," Dad answered politely, taking a seat in a chair across from the sofa. "We picked up a new client this week; big family, lots of teeth to clean. And how's the case you were telling me about?"

"It's progressing very nicely," Hermione replied with a smile, pleased to see that he had remembered the small detail she'd dropped the last time she'd visited. "I'm presenting on it this week, actually, and if I do my job right, we'll be taking a reasonable step toward fair working conditions."

"That's wonderful," Dad said respectfully. "And it's the…elves, right?"

"Yes, house elves," Hermione confirmed.

"Charming," Dad said, and Hermione could tell he was caught between wanting to know what a house elf was and trying to keep the conversation as civil as possible. "And Ron, how is your work coming?"

"It's going well," Ron answered, sitting up a bit straighter. "I've been working on duty shifts rather than casework the past few weeks, so it's been pretty busy."

"Did you ever figure out who sent that owl?" Dad asked, his tone just beyond polite curiosity.

"Erm…no," Ron admitted. "We hit a bit of a standstill, see."

"The man that dropped by last month, said he worked with you - he told me our house would still be under protection, is that so?" Dad asked, his tone a bit sharper than before.

"That's right," Ron replied immediately. "It's not invasive, is it?"

"No, no," Dad assured, visibly relaxing a bit. "If I can say one thing about you wizards, it's that you can be subtle when you want to be."

Hermione couldn't help but smile, thinking of the many, many times she'd had to scold various Weasleys for acting too wizardly amongst muggles. "When you want to be" was definitely the key phrase in her father's sentence.

"Well, we want to make sure you're safe," Ron told him. Hermione noticed his Adam's Apple bob as he swallowed nervously.

"Well, thank you," Dad said good-naturedly. Then, his smile slid a bit more to the strained side of the scale. "And how is the wedding planning coming? Your mum tells me everything's about set."

"It is," Hermione said. "Ron's mum has probably been doing more than we have, actually. I feel bad about it, but she only asks me to help when there's a decision to be made; she just sends me away otherwise. I think she and Mum have been writing, though, so at least she's not doing it all on her own."

"Ah," Dad replied awkwardly. "Yes, I remember your mother being the hospitable sort, Ron."

"Comes from raising seven kids, I suppose," Ron remarked with a lopsided smile. "I think Ginny's keeping her reigned in, though."

"Ginny's your sister?" Dad asked.

"Yes, and she's the maid of honor," Hermione reminded him kindly, hoping he could tell that she appreciated his effort.

"Of course, of course," Dad said, and the three of them trailed off into a bit of an uncomfortable silence. Luckily, Mum chose that moment to bustle in from the kitchen.

"Hello, dears!" she said warmly, walking to the sofa to engulf Ron and Hermione in hugs. "The food's almost ready, but I could use a hand. Hermione?"

Hermione looked nervously between her dad and Ron, but Mum seemed to anticipate her concern. "Peter, I think there's a football game on. Why don't you show Ron? Hermione said you played sports in school, dear?"

"Erm, yeah," Ron replied awkwardly. "Quidditch."

"Is that anything like football?" Mum asked.

"A bit," Hermione answered, though she knew Ron would likely find muggle sports boring in comparison. Still, she followed her mum after Dad flipped on the telly and began explaining the basic elements of the game to Ron.

"Do you think it's a good idea, leaving them on their own?" Hermione asked Mum as they entered the kitchen.

"Honestly, Hermione, they're grown men, not children," Mum scolded.

"You wouldn't know it the way they act sometimes," Hermione retorted, but Mum just rolled her eyes pleasantly and handed her some tongs.

"Put the salad into bowls for me, will you?" Mum requested. "Anyway, you know your father's coming to terms with it all now."

"It's awkward, though," Hermione admitted.

"But it's better than shouting, isn't it?" Mum insisted.

"I suppose," Hermione sighed. "As long as Ron doesn't insult football, I suppose we'll be okay."

"But he plays the Quid-thing, doesn't he?" Mum asked confusedly.

"Well, yes, but it's a bit different. You see, Quidditch is played on brooms and involves three different types of balls," Hermione explained as she finished separating the salad into equal portions.

"Brooms that fly?" Mum asked, alarmed.

"Yes. It's quite a dangerous game, really, but they're all very good fliers," Hermione replied. "Would you like me to put these out now, Mum?"

"Yes, please," Mum requested, the remnants of a bemused look still etched upon her face. "And I suppose you ought to fetch the men. Five minutes of bonding time would probably be enough to start out, don't you think?"

Hermione laughed half-heartedly. "Perhaps by the time Ron and I have kids, we'll be able to leave them alone for an hour."

"We can only hope," Mum teased, shooting Hermione a warm smile.

After laying out a bowl at each of the four places at the dining room table, Hermione walked hastily down the hall toward the sitting room. However, she stopped immediately in her tracks when she heard Ron speak in a very serious tone on the other side of the door. Feeling only a little guilty for eavesdropping, Hermione put her ear to the wall so that she could just make out his words.

"Mr. Granger, I know it's been a weird couple of years," Ron began tentatively. Even through the wall, Hermione could hear the nervousness in his voice.

"It has," Dad confirmed shortly. Hermione desperately wished that she could see his expression.

"I just - I want you to know that I really do love Hermione," Ron said very quickly. "I'm not just…you know, marrying her for something to do. I-I reckon I've been in love with her for years."

It was quiet for a moment, but just as Hermione was ready to burst in and step to Ron's defense, Dad spoke again: "Ron, I want you to understand that my…_misgivings_ about all this have had nothing to do with you personally. I've been out of line, I know that, but you must know I care very deeply for Hermione. It's just that I came off much harsher than I ever intended."

"Okay," Ron replied simply. Hermione could detect his discomfort plain as day.

"You have to understand that it's difficult for me to realize how much Hermione has grown up," Dad continued. "Last I remember, she was a twelve year old girl asking me to buy her books I wouldn't have thought to read til university."

Hermione heard Ron chuckle uneasily then. "She's still a bit like that," he said awkwardly.

"But she's grown up now," Dad said, perhaps a little bit sadly. "I understand that now. Karen realized it before I did, but isn't that always the case?"

Ron laughed again, this time a bit more freely. "Like mother, like daughter," he remarked.

They were silent for awhile again, and Hermione could only hear the sound of the television. Then, suddenly, Dad said: "The only reason I've been pushing back so hard, Ron, is because I don't want the two of you to rush into this and come to regret it later."

"I'd never regret it," Ron replied fiercely. "Mr. Granger, my only regrets when it comes to Hermione are the times I was too stupid to realize how important she is to me."

"I can tell you really do love her," Dad said, so quietly Hermione could barely make the words out.

"More than anything. She's - she's sort of everything," Ron said, with so much honesty and vulnerability Hermione nearly whimpered.

There was another momentary pause before Dad spoke again, this time in a resigned tone: "This is never going to be easy for me, Ron, but…I really do wish the best for you both."

"Thank you, Mr. Granger," Ron said, awkwardly but sincerely. This time, neither of them spoke for nearly a full minute, and Hermione decided it was safe to go in. Taking a deep breath and dabbing briefly at her eyes, she pushed the door all the way open and walked in to see Dad and Ron staring intently at the television, clearly avoiding each other's eyes.

"Dinner's ready," she said brightly, walking over and laying an appreciative hand on her dad's shoulder.

"Lovely!" he replied enthusiastically, quickly shutting off the television and leaving the room. Ron made to follow, but Hermione stayed him with a hand on his arm.

"I heard, just now," she admitted, staring up at him gratefully. "That was amazing, Ron."

He coughed awkwardly. "I had to say something," Ron said, the tips of his ears turning red. "I'm marrying his daughter, y'know. Didn't want him to think I was too much of a shithead."

Hermione rolled her eyes and silenced him with a sound kiss on the lips. "It was very mature of you."

"Yeah, well, sometimes I pretend," Ron said uncomfortably, rubbing his hair with his free hand. "Food's waiting, yeah?"

Hermione smiled and took his hand. "Is that all you think about?"

"No, but as we're in your parents' house I'm not going to say the other thing," Ron quipped, and Hermione simply rolled her eyes and nudged him with her elbow.

Dinner went well, all things considered. Apparently Dad's heart to heart with Ron had been more than his fill of wedding talk for the day, and their conversation revolved mostly around their work. Hermione could tell from the expression on Ron's face that he was learning far more than he had ever cared to about dentistry. All in all, the conversation was pleasant, if not a bit overly polite. Still, talk of their careers brought them through to dessert, which was, as it typically had been during Hermione's childhood, a fruit salad. Ron look thoroughly disenchanted by this, but did thankfully did not voice his concerns.

"It's been lovely having the two of you here tonight," Mum said brightly as they tucked in.

"I agree. We'll have to come over more often," Hermione replied.

"Yeah. Dinner was fantastic, Mrs. Granger," Ron added politely.

"We'll make a monthly thing of it, at the least," Dad declared. Hermione beamed at him appreciatively.

"We could even come to your flat now and then," Mum suggested. "Hermione says you make a wonderful lasagne, Ron."

"It's my mum's recipe," Ron said sheepishly, sending Hermione a half-hearted glare. She only smirked in return. "And it's the only dish I can make properly, to be honest."

"We can have you over after the wedding," Hermione said happily, taking pleasure in watching Ron's eyes widen worriedly. "It'll be a bit cozy, but you're right Mum, Ron's lasagne is worth it."

"Or we could just have you at the Burrow," Ron cut in quickly. "It's small, but there'd be a bit more space than there would be at ours, and Mum and Dad would love it."

"Well, that's a wonderful idea," Mum beamed enthusiastically. "Don't you think, Peter?"

"Absolutely," Dad agreed, and Hermione was pleased to see his expression tipping toward the genuine side of the scale again. "It's been ages since we've seen them; they've always been such nice people."

"Perfect," Hermione gushed, putting her fork down on the table perhaps a bit overenthusiastically as she finished off her fruit salad. "You'll love the Burrow! I suppose you'll see it soon, for the wedding. It's out in the countryside a ways, and it's so beautiful this time of year!"

"It's alright," Ron added sheepishly, his cheeks burning. "My brother Bill got married there as well. We set up a marquee outside. I bet my mum's told you."

"Yes, and it sounds lovely," Mum said pleasantly.

"It will be," Hermione added emphatically. "Thank you for dinner, Mum and Dad, but we're going to have to be going now. Ron has a shift tomorrow morning."

"On a Sunday?" Dad asked, looking utterly flabbergasted.

"Yeah, but it's a short one," Ron replied. "I just picked it up for a bit of extra money."

"Well, good on you," Dad said, seeming genuinely impressed. "I never could give up my Sunday morning lie-in."

They all laughed good-naturedly, and made their way through the typical parting routine without anything out of the ordinary. This time, it was even complete with hugs and kisses and promises to repeat the experience soon.

"That went surprisingly well," Ron remarked once they were back in the comforts of their own flat.

"It did," Hermione confirmed happily, waltzing up to him with a spring in her step to lean into his warm embrace. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron dismissed uncomfortably. "Seemed the grown-up thing to do."

"Well, we are proper grown-ups now," Hermione remarked, pulling back and raising an eyebrow at him.

"That's the theory, anyway," Ron quipped. Then, he leaned in to kiss her, and they spent the next few hours engaged in very "grown-up" activities, indeed.

They were awoken several hours earlier than they wanted to be by a prancing, silvery stag, which seemed to burst into their bedroom from nowhere. Before Ron could quite determine what was happening, Harry's voice filled the room:

"We've got a tip about Parkinson. Be at the office in five minutes."

"What does that mean, exactly?" Hermione asked warily as Ron shot out of bed and began dressing as quickly as he could. The muggle alarm clock on the bedside table glared brightly in a reminder that it was just gone two in the morning.

"Dunno," Ron replied shortly, searching through the wardrobe to find a set of Auror robes. "Could be anything, really, but given the urgency I'm guessing we'll be headed on a raid."

"Be careful," Hermione said, drawing a sheet around her as she crawled out of bed to kiss him lightly on the mouth.

"Always am," Ron replied sincerely, squeezing her arm before turning and making his way out to the fireplace.

Three minutes later, Ron walked into the Auror office, only to be immediately dragged out by Harry, Isaac, and Bryce, who were leading a small group of overnight on-duty Aurors.

"They haven't got a ward up. We're apparating," Isaac explained shortly as they hastily made their way through the corridors on their way to the on-site Apparition point in an alley just outside the premises.

"To where?" Ron asked impatiently.

"Place outside of Brighton. It's been under watch for awhile - suspicious activity and such. We got a tip about some sort of a meeting from a colleague out there, and he caught a glimpse of someone whose physical description matches Parkinson's, so that's why the four of us have been called in specifically. We haven't got a clue how she's been communicating with anybody, but that's neither here nor there for the time being," Isaac said, speaking so quickly that Ron was reminded immediately of Hermione.

"We were briefed before you got here. You'll side along with Potter," Bryce added, catching the hint of worry in Ron's expression - apparating into a place one had no knowledge of was perilously dangerous at best.

"And have we got a strategy?" Ron asked.

"Just the standard. Stun and detain," Isaac answered. "Bryce and I are in charge, but the on-duty lot will listen to you and Potter, too. Don't fuck up."

"Right," Ron groaned, pulling a face in Harry's direction. They'd been on loads of raids before, of course, but he generally liked to have a bit more than eight minutes' warning. He was comforted to see that Harry didn't look any more prepared than he was.

A few tense moments later, the group was positioned at the Apparition point, waiting for the sign from the Auror that had been sent ahead to scout the scene.

"Soon as Marks sends his Patronus, we're off like we discussed," Isaac reminded them all. "Standard Procedure B, don't forget that. No dilly-dallying, just get it done and we'll be back here before we know it."

As he finished speaking, a silvery frog materialized from somewhere down the alley. It didn't speak, but let out one low croak. "That's our cue," Isaac said, nodding to each of the men. "On my count."

Ron only just remembered to grab hold of Harry's arm as Isaac counted down from five. When he reached one, Ron felt the familiarly unpleasant sensation of Apparition, and a moment later, they found themselves surrounding a small house in a sparse area of the countryside. The group took only a moment to regroup and split themselves evenly between the house's two doors before Isaac silently counted off, this time on his fingers - Bryce was doing the same thing on the other side. This time, at Isaac's fist, the lead-off Auror burst in the door, Harry, Ron, Isaac, and the few others following closely.

As was the custom with raids, Ron heard nothing more than a bunch of shouting as they entered. Whether from his side or the others, he was unsure; he was completely focused on moving through each room of the house. It seemed as though the others had found the group inside first, but only a minute later, Ron's group reached the farthest sitting room, and they were instantly greeted with flying curses and louder shouting.

Ron immediately fell into what he and Harry occasionally referred to as "work-mode." He dodged curses as though it was his second nature, and he threw Stunners in retaliation when he could be sure he would hit an enemy. He wasn't sure how many of them there were, but most seemed to be wearing shapeless black masks - he made a mental note of the additional connection between this group and the Death Eaters. Eventually, Ron found himself in combat with one of them - but before he could manage more than a couple of jinxes between his Shield Charms, his opponent had disappeared into thin air.

"Who forgot to put up a fucking ward?" Ron heard Bryce roar from across the room. That was it - they had forgotten to bar the inhabitants from Disapparating. _Shit._ Having arrived late to the briefing, Ron wasn't sure whose responsibility it had been, and he found his harried attempts at replicating the charm now were unsuccessful. Giving it up for a bad job, he instead raced over to assist Bryce against someone whose hair was undoubtedly Parkinson's.

She was throwing curses so fast that Ron and Bryce couldn't manage much more than Shield Charms. Every time one of them would try to stun her, she would shift her curse in a way that broke through the other man's shield. Ron briefly wondered if she'd ever officially joined up with Voldemort - her dueling was admittedly better than most.

"We've lost them!" Isaac called a few minutes into their struggle, not noticing his colleagues' battle with Parkinson. His shout shifted Bryce's attention just a moment too long, and a well-crafted jinx from the former Slytherin caused Ron and Bryce to lose their footing and sent them flying to the ground. Parkinson made to turn on her heel, but something with jet black hair quite literally ran into her to stop her.

Everything happened so quickly - curses flew faster than anyone could keep track of. The next thing Ron knew, Parkinson was rolling on the floor in a full-body bind, but she was cackling - Harry was unconscious on the ground.

"Oh, fucking hell," Ron muttered as he scrambled toward his best mate, too terrified to manage anything other than exasperation - but luckily, he was able to find Harry's pulse quickly, and he let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"Just knocked out," Ron called to Isaac and Bryce, who were busy wrestling Parkinson to her feet. "Should I Ennervate him?"

"Take him to St. Mungo's just in case," Isaac instructed. "Dunno what curse she hit him with, and she's got the right to keep quiet as she's under arrest, aren't you?"

Parkinson broke her laughter to look at them in disdain, but seeming to know what was good for her, she didn't say a word.

"Come back to the office for a de-brief once you're sure Potter's stable," Bryce told Ron.

"Right," Ron said, nodding as the two elder men disapparated with Parkinson in tow. Heaving Harry upright and leaning him against his shoulder, Ron made to do the same, but not before muttering: "I'll kill you if you're not okay, mate."

* * *

A/N: I was almost going to end this chapter with the line about Harry lying on the ground, but I didn't want to be that cruel. Also - I just want to say that **_no_****,**the Granger situation is not suddenly and completely resolved. Much more to come on that front a bit later in the story - and it will get to the real root of the problem.

We're almost halfway through this now! Next chapter is scheduled for Friday at the latest. Thanks for reading. :)


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thank you as always for being wonderful. I couldn't wait any longer - posting this story and reading people's reactions to it has been entirely too much fun. :) Before I forget - I don't think the link to Hermione's wedding dress two chapters ago worked. If you're interested you can go to hjeanweasley dot tumblr dot com slash wazlib88 and scroll down a ways and see it. You can also follow me while you're there, if you'd like. :)

Also - Happy Birthday to the Boy Who Lived and the Queen. Jo Rowling is absolutely my hero, and I can never thank her enough for Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the rest.

Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, my pseudonym would be Robert Galbraith, not wazlib88.

* * *

"Honestly Hermione, I really am fine," Harry insisted for the third time since she'd arrived at St. Mungo's with Ron thirty minutes previously. "Just a bad mix of a Stunner and a Cruciatus."

"He'll be out of here by nightfall," Ron reassured her from his seat at the foot of Harry's bed.

Hermione sat up straighter in the chair she'd conjured for herself. "I've read about mixed Dark curses. It's a dangerous practice, you know, it's completely possible the Healers have missed-"

"They haven't," Harry said flatly. "She didn't quite combine them properly. The only reason they haven't let me out yet is because she used a Cruciatus."

Hermione was not appeased, but she decided to let it go. "But you'll rest for a few days, won't you?" she couldn't help but ask.

"I'm out of commission til Tuesday," Harry replied. "Bloody fantastic, too, just when we're finally getting somewhere-"

"Your health is more important," Hermione insisted firmly. "I worry about the two of you, you know, and it's not exactly _comforting_ to know that certain procedures aren't being followed-"

"Traeger made an honest mistake," Ron interjected, reaching out to take Hermione's hand comfortingly. She accepted, but arranged her face in a way that it would be clear she was not pleased. "Wards aren't always the first thing you think of when there're curses being thrown. He's already in enough trouble over it, and we're all fine."

"Right," Hermione said derisively, raising an eyebrow to remind Ron that he hadn't felt this way when he'd returned home around six that morning. After assuring her that Harry really was alright, he went on a bit of a tirade about Augustus Traeger, the on-duty senior Auror who had forgotten to bar the house from Apparition so that the suspects wouldn't be able to escape. As a result, Parkinson had been their only capture, and no one had so much as caught a good glimpse of any of the others. Since then, Ron had calmed down about it, but Hermione was unnerved that a trained Auror had made such a glaring mistake on a high-stakes raid.

"I can't believe they still do the masks thing," Ron remarked, pulling Hermione from her reverie.

"The whole thing's got Death Eaters written all over it," Harry agreed. "The masks were a bit different, though."

"They might have altered the originals, if they were all Death Eaters," Hermione suggested with a sigh, accepting that neither Harry nor Ron were as shaken up as she was - perhaps because they encountered these situations more often than they cared to share with her. She pushed that thought to the back of her mind for the time being.

"I don't think there are that many Death Eaters still at large, to be honest," Harry replied. "I'd say there were probably more than half a dozen there last night. There were nearly a dozen of us and we certainly outnumbered them. It could be the kids, or maybe they've recruited. What I'm really interested in is how they communicated without using the post. Parkinson hasn't got a Dark Mark, so it can't be that."

"Maybe they just did it in person," Hermione suggested. "Or there could be an intermediary person involved, someone you wouldn't have been watching."

"We'll find out more when we interrogate her later," Ron declared. "She won't talk til she has somebody to represent her, and we've had to bully the law division into providing someone on a Sunday."

"Hasn't she got a lawyer already?" Hermione asked confusedly. "Her family always seemed the type that would have a good one at the ready - haughty and rich and all that."

"Not as far as she told us," Ron answered. "Who knows? Maybe her family's a bunch of poor Slytherins. That'd be a first."

Harry snorted. "But you've got someone now?"

"Yeah. Last I heard from Bryce I've got to be in at one for the interrogation," Ron replied, glancing at the clock, which read half-past eleven.

"Well, hopefully she'll offer enough that we can put this all behind us," Hermione said, realizing a little too late that the nervousness was evident in her voice.

"Don't worry about it, Hermione," Harry told her seriously. "It's under control, and there's no way the others will try something now."

"Exactly," Ron soothed, standing up from Harry's bed, tugging on Hermione's hand and pulling her upright so that he could hug her tightly. "Not much longer and all we'll have left to worry about is whether Mum'll lose her mind before the wedding."

Though Hermione couldn't see Harry, as Ron was entirely too tall and his shoulder blocked her view of the bed, she could practically hear him smirking as he said, "I still can't believe it's only a month out. It's gone so fast, what with everything else."

"Not when you're in the thick of it. I think we'll both be happy when it's done with already," Ron remarked, and Hermione didn't disagree. Truthfully, as much as she was looking forward to celebrating with their friends and family, she wished there was some way she could simply be married to Ron without the drama and stress that had accompanied the past few months.

Harry chuckled. "I don't blame you. I'd almost rather elope."

"Can you imagine what would have happened if we'd done that?" Ron asked incredulously, turning to face Harry but keeping an arm about Hermione's waist. "We'd have got ourselves killed twice over!"

"I don't think our parents would have resorted to murder, Ron," Hermione tutted.

Ron rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. And anyway, I'd want the family there."

"Aren't there over a hundred people coming?" Harry asked wryly.

"Well, once you invite the family and the close friends, you've got to invite most of the rest of the DA, haven't you?" Ron asked reasonably. "We didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings, after all."

Harry snorted. "And you care about other people's feelings since?"

"Since I decided to marry Hermione," Ron said proudly, puffing his chest out.

"Made an executive decision to marry her, did you?" a teasing voice came from the open door. Ginny sauntered in and kissed Harry on the cheek before settling down at the foot of his bed. "Feeling any better?"

"Loads," Harry replied with a smile. "They say I'll be back home before the day's over."

"Good, I didn't much fancy spending another night here," Ginny said.

Ron began to mumble something in response, but he cut off immediately after Hermione nudged him harshly in the side. "Are you ready for lunch, Ginny?" Hermione asked kindly.

"Lunch sounds fantastic," Ron enthused, but Ginny was quick to shake her head.

"You're not coming with us. We've got wedding things to discuss," Ginny explained.

"It's my wedding too!" Ron protested, frowning.

"We're going to be talking about girly things," Hermione placated, patting his arm kindly. "Dresses and flowers and a whole number of frivolities you couldn't care less about."

"I care," Ron insisted half-heartedly, but Hermione just rolled her eyes and wiggled out of his embrace.

"Good luck with the questioning today," she told him sweetly, bouncing up on her tiptoes to kiss him quickly on the lips. "I'll see you at home."

"See you," Ron replied, offering her a contented smile.

"And I'll be back to see _you_ out of this place in a bit," Ginny told Harry with a wink before she linked her arm through Hermione's and led her outside before she could do so much as properly wish Harry well.

"I feel like I haven't got to talk to you properly in ages," Ginny said as they made their way through the corridors of St. Mungo's. "How did it go with your parents yesterday?"

"Really well, actually," Hermione beamed. "Ron had a chat with my dad, which I think really helped things."

"_Ron_ had a chat?" Ginny sounded very impressed. "I don't know what you've done to him, Hermione, but I swear he's matured about ten years since the two of you got together."

"Well, part of that happened the year we were on the run," Hermione replied thoughtfully, "but to be honest, I think it's always been there."

Ginny hummed in acknowledgement. "Well, he's always had a good heart. Just needed to develop the brains to use it."

Hermione still thought Ginny was being a little unfair, but wrote it off as a sibling thing and let the subject drop as they rode the lift and exited St. Mungo's. There was a pub just a short walk down the street that would do nicely for their lunch, and they filled the time spent walking discussing Ginny's bridesmaid gown, which they would be picking up over the weekend.

"Anyway, I'm glad we went with the darker blue instead of a cerulean," Ginny was saying as they took their seats at a table inside the pub a few minutes later.

"We should really just be glad we managed to avoid Gryffindor or Chudley colors," Hermione remarked with a laugh.

"Well, we may not all be that lucky. I'm afraid you may be stuck in scarlet for mine and Harry's," Ginny said apologetically. "At least you've got the hair for it."

"Have you and Harry talked about it, then? Getting married?" Hermione asked, smiling her thanks at the waiter who had brought them the soup and salad they'd chosen for lunch.

"Not in so many words," Ginny replied, "but we've got more adjustments to make than the two of you, haven't we? What with me starting at Holyhead next season and all that. I think we both know, though, after all that's happened."

Hermione nodded understandingly. "Absolutely. I've never seen Harry so happy as when he's with you."

Ginny smiled. "What about you and Ron, though? If anybody's happy together it's the two of you. It's a little disgusting, to be honest."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We aren't that bad."

"Yes you are," Ginny insisted with a grin. "Not that it's surprising, mind. You're still in the honeymoon period."

Hermione felt her smile falter. Though she tried to correct herself immediately, Ginny caught it: "What?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Hermione dismissed, taking a large bite of salad as if to distract herself, but a hard look from Ginny told her they weren't changing the subject. "Alright, it's just that I don't like that phrase."

"Honeymoon period?" Ginny frowned in confusion.

"Yes," Hermione replied shortly, training her eyes on her fork as she felt her cheeks redden.

"Hermione." When she finally raised her eyes, Ginny did not look amused.

She bit her lip and shifted her eyes around a bit before saying: "Be honest, alright? You don't think we're rushing into things, do you?"

"Do you?" Ginny asked immediately, her brow still furrowed.

"No," Hermione replied slowly, "not really."

"Then what are you asking me for?" Ginny demanded.

Hermione sighed. "I don't know."

"Is this about your parents?" Ginny asked tentatively. "I thought they were coming round."

"Yes, well, I think it may be more out of necessity than anything else," Hermione admitted carefully. "They just - they don't know what we've been through."

"So they don't realize that you actually know what you're doing?" Ginny finished questioningly.

"That's sort of what I think," Hermione replied with a sigh. "It's just…I know Ron better than I know anybody, and vice versa. We've already seen each other at our worst, you know? We've had all those ridiculous rows, and we've come through them."

Ginny nodded knowingly. "You have indeed had some ridiculous rows in your day."

"So that's why it doesn't fell right to call it a honeymoon period," Hermione continued. "It's like…it's not doe-eyed puppy love, not with everything we've seen."

"Well, if this _isn't_ a honeymoon period, I dread to see what the actual honeymoon will be like," Ginny teased. "It's sweet, it really is, but that doesn't change the fact that he and I were in nappies together."

Hermione laughed, grateful that Ginny had a knack for easing the tension in a tactful way. She felt rather silly, worrying the way she did about things that had really been resolved long ago, but Ginny had a way of making things seem alright anyway. "Oh, we aren't so bad, are we?"

"If you could see the way you look at each other," Ginny groaned, gagging exaggeratedly.

Hermione laughed again, though she privately reflected that she and Ron would never hear the end of it if the others knew how affectionate they could get when they were alone.

"In all seriousness, Hermione - are you scared at all?" Ginny asked briskly once they'd returned to their meal.

Hermione bit her lip and considered for a moment. "A little, I suppose," she replied thoughtfully - and for the most part, truthfully. "But it's mostly the kind of scared I was the first time I went to Hogwarts, you know?"

Ginny smiled in understanding, and the two future sisters-in-law spent the rest of their lunch happily discussing the decorations for the ceremony.

_-000-_

Ron was frustrated. No, that was an understatement. He was actually a bit furious. He hadn't been allowed in to Parkinson's interrogation. Isaac hadn't wanted his emotions to get the better of him, and in retrospect, that had probably been a good idea. Ron wasn't sure he would have been able to stop himself hexing her. He'd almost tried to through the wall, which had a one-way revealing charm cast upon it so that he could view the proceedings without Parkinson knowing.

But the most frustrating part about the whole thing was that two hours later, he was still there. On the advice of her counsel, Parkinson had confessed to her role in the threatening messages, testifying that she'd only been having "a bit of fun" messing with her old classmates, but it wasn't enough. It was blatantly clear that she wasn't acting alone and that it was, in fact, a serious matter. The interrupted meeting only proved it, but she was simply not talking on that front.

When at last Bryce emerged from the room to greet Ron, leaving Isaac to take Pansy back to the holding cell, his first words were, "We're going to Greengrass' place."

"What? Why?" Ron asked, bewildered.

"She faltered when we asked about her," Bryce said shortly. "You might have missed it from out here. Anyway, we only talked to the sister last time. Might as well give it a go now that we're pretty sure there's a group of them, yeah?"

"Alright," Ron agreed as they began to make their way back upstairs. "Now, then?"

"Yep," Bryce confirmed."And you're coming, too. Now that we've got her in custody, I think we all want this thing locked up once and for all."

"D'you think everybody at that meeting had something to do with it?" Ron asked - he'd already formed his own opinion, of course, and he was curious as to whether or not his colleagues shared it.

"Could have done," Bryce replied. "But whatever it was, they're good at covering their tracks. Report came in before you got here, there was nothing left at the scene that does us any good."

"Doubt it was a former Death Eater picnic," Ron remarked darkly.

"Probably not," Bryce acknowledged. "But we don't really know what it was at all."

"Why do you reckon Parkinson confessed? Our evidence against her really isn't that good," Ron pointed out.

"Well, the messages themselves are a minor offense, aren't they?" Bryce replied. "I think she knows we've got her on that, 'specially once the search team finishes with her flat. She might get a lesser punishment by pleading guilty. She'll want to try to minimize her sentence, given she cursed Potter."

"S'pose so," Ron acknowledged. "But if we can prove that meeting meant something, then all that wouldn't matter."

"Exactly," Bryce confirmed."So that's why we've got to get a move on, haven't we?"

A few minutes later, Ron, Bryce, and Isaac had apparated to a point that was just down the road from the Greengrass estate. Ron was uncomfortably reminded of the Malfoy Manor as they approached. He wondered briefly what it was about huge houses that made them appear so unwelcoming. In this case, the place had a gate around it that made him feel as though he were entering a prison, and the Gothic-style architecture of the house itself wasn't terribly inviting, either.

"I'll do most of the talking," Isaac said as he knocked on the door. A small, anxious house elf opened it less than a moment later, and Ron's thoughts floated immediately back to Hermione, which strengthened his resolve.

"Are Daphne or Astoria in?" Isaac asked the elf politely.

"Miss Astoria is in sir, but not Miss Daphne, I'm afraid," the elf replied, nervously wiping his hands on the plain tunic he wore. "But Miss Astoria is with company, sir, and I don't know if she'll want to be disturbed."

"It's very important that we speak with her," Ron told the elf kindly, in a tone of voice that he knew Hermione would have been proud of. "Would you mind bringing her to the door for us?"

"I will tell her you are here, sir!" the elf squealed. "But whom should I say is calling?"

"Auror department," Bryce said shortly, and the elf nearly tripped over his feet as he made his way out of the entry hall. Only a moment later, a short, blonde woman appeared from an adjoining room. Ron was a bit surprised to see that she had a rather pleasant face, though her eyes bore a fierce expression that Ron suspected was a permanent fixture.

"Didn't I speak to you a few weeks ago?" the woman asked with a frown, addressing Isaac.

"Our case has progressed since then," Isaac replied shortly. "I understand your sister is out?"

"She is, and I don't know where she's gone," Astoria replied, still frowning.

"Astoria, love, who is - oh," Draco Malfoy had just appeared in the hallway. For a moment (once the shock of hearing Malfoy using the word "love" had worn off), Ron could think of nothing else but the brood of blonde, icy-eyed children the two of them could produce, and he almost had to stifle a laugh. The idea of mini-Malfoys was simultaneously hilarious and terrifying.

"What are you lot doing here? We've both helped your little investigation," Malfoy spat, the accusatory tone oozing from his voice.

"Things have progressed, I'm afraid," Isaac repeated. "We were hoping to catch Ms. Daphne Greengrass and ask her a few questions, but I understand she's out."

"Do you know if she'll be much longer?" Bryce asked. "It really is imperative that we speak with her."

Malfoy looked ready to shout them down, but Astoria spoke first, "I don't know, but I don't want to cause any trouble. You're welcome to stay for a bit."

"Thank you," Isaac replied politely, and Astoria led them to room she'd appeared from, which was an overtly large sitting room stock full of rather uncomfortable looking chairs. Ron was reminded of the Grangers' sitting room, though this one was a bit darker and did not have any photographs in sight.

"Take a seat," Astoria said politely, gesturing toward the chairs.

"Do you mind if we ask you a few questions in the meantime?" Isaac asked as the three Aurors sat gingerly on leather armchairs.

Astoria visibly tensed. "I told you everything I knew last time," she snapped as she took a seat on a larger chair, next to Malfoy, who took her hand, much to Ron's discomfort. It was a bit unnerving; he'd never seen Malfoy display true affection for anyone, other than perhaps his mother.

"Was your sister out last night as well, Astoria?" Bryce implored.

"I don't know," Astoria replied shortly. "I was visiting Draco last night."

"And how late did you arrive home?" Isaac asked, pulling a small sheet of parchment from the pocket of his cloak and making a few notes.

"Ten o'clock this morning," Astoria said, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "Like I said, I don't know where Daphne was. I only saw her for about an hour before she ran off again."

"And she hasn't been acting strangely these last couple of weeks?" Isaac asked. "Not at all?"

"You ought to tell them," Malfoy cut in firmly, looking very uncomfortable yet still determined.

"Tell us what?" Ron asked immediately, speaking for the first time since Astoria had greeted them.

"I don't know if there's anything to tell," Astoria said, turning to Malfoy with a desperate expression.

"Anything and everything could help," Bryce said, a bit of kindness coloring his tone.

"Astoria, you could be harboring a criminal," Malfoy told her, squeezing her hand. "Just tell them everything you told me last night."

Ron had to cover a snicker. If there was one thing Malfoy was good at, it was covering his own arse. But Astoria seemed to find his argument compelling, and began to speak:

"I think Daph's fallen in with a dodgy crowd," she said carefully, still grasping Malfoy's hand. "She and Pansy and Millie have always been close, yeah, but it's been strange as of late. She's never home, which doesn't make sense as she only works at our aunt's shop three days a week. Whenever the other two come here, they lock themselves in her room and won't come out. I've never been close to Daphne, you see, but such secrecy…it's just strange, that's all," Astoria finished, looking toward her feet.

"Astoria, Pansy Parkinson was arrested last night," Isaac said. "She's confessed to the threats we've been investigating. You have to understand that your sister's connection to her is troubling."

Astoria gulped. "Look, if my sister asks then I didn't say this, but if Pansy's involved, I think Daphne is too. Every other night she runs off to meet Pansy and Millie someplace."

This essentially confirmed everything the Aurors had suspected, and they each thanked Astoria profusely.

"This means you're off the hook then, yeah?" Malfoy told her encouragingly.

"She didn't do anything wrong," Isaac said kindly. "We're just going to stay here until Daphne gets back, if that's alright."

Thankfully, they didn't have to wait long. No less than five minutes later, they heard the front door open, and Isaac, Bryce, and Ron returned to the entrance hall, leaving a slightly nervous Astoria in Malfoy's care.

"Daphne Greengrass?" Isaac's voice boomed through the hall as they entered to find a taller and slightly tougher version of Astoria kicking off her shoes by the door.

"Yes, and who are you?" Daphne asked suspiciously as she threw her cloak to the floor.

"We're from the Auror Department. We'd just like to ask you a few questions."

Bryce hadn't finished his sentence before Daphne had drawn her wand. Ron barely had time to jump to the side as she shot off a string of curses; the wide entry hall was alit with color. Ron didn't know where either of the other two were, so he simply drew his own wand and cast up a Shield Charm as he lay low on the ground. But just a moment later, a jet of red light shot from Isaac's wand, disarming Daphne, and Bryce and Ron hurried forward to bind her hands and make the arrest.

_-000-_

"Well, she's confessed to the threats," Bryce said emphatically an hour later as he returned to the office, where Isaac and Ron were sat doing paperwork. "On advice of counsel, naturally. That's not to say she had much of a choice, mind; the fact that she attacked us the second we identified ourselves told us more than we needed to know. Anyway, she indicated Bulstrode as well."

"Even if she hadn't done, the search team found a stack parchment in Parkinson's flat that would have made it all clear enough," Ron told him. "They had some notes about the victims they didn't bother to transfigure, and it's written on paper adorned with the Bulstrode family crest."

"But there was nothing about a larger organization. She didn't say anything to you about the meeting?" Isaac asked.

"'Fraid not. We can try Bulstrode; did you send a detail out to hers?" Bryce threw himself into a chair, sighing heavily.

"Yep. They'll be arresting her soon as they see her," Isaac confirmed. "Did you take a transcript of the interrogation?"

Bryce handed Isaac his notes, and Ron pulled his chair up to look over the elder man's shoulder. "So it seems Greengrass maintains it was just the three of them," Isaac observed after a moment.

"Bullshit," Ron replied promptly.

"I agree with you, Weasley," Bryce said seriously. "Soon as we get Bulstrode's confession, which shouldn't be too hard given she's already been implicated, we set into her about it. Whatever we stumbled into last night could be a lot bigger than a couple of threatening owls."

"The thing that gets me is how they managed to get the meeting times," Isaac observed. "We've been watching their post. Some correspondence with each other, yeah, but little with the outside world. It must've been done in person."

"Which makes it damn near impossible to track," Bryce added with a sigh. "Like I've been saying, we've got to hope the last one talks."

Just then, a loud screeching came from just outside the office doors. The three men rushed toward it, wands in tow, to find that the noise had come from a certain handcuffed Millicent Bulstrode, who had apparently not decided to come quietly.

"This is an outrage!" she shrieked. "Absolute fucking bullshit!"

"This way, Miss Bulstrode," the Auror who had brought her in was attempting to say, but his pleas were drowned out by her shouting.

"- this joke you call a government! Self-righteous bastards, fucking stalking me, showing up outside my home - and YOU!" she had apparently noticed Ron, and had swiveled to face him. "You and your fucking Mudblood girlfriend! That bitch is dead, you hear me? You're wrong if you think you can keep her safe! Dead _fucking_ wrong!"

The Auror managed to get her under control and drag her away, but the damage had been done. Unseeing, unhearing, Ron stormed out of the Auror office, leaving a shouting Bryce and Isaac behind. He felt as though he were in a dream, a nightmare. It didn't matter to him whether Bulstrode had been lying, because the rational part of his brain wasn't working. _Dead._ The word rang through his ears as he ran through the corridors, cursing the Ministry's anti-Apparition charms as he went. He tried to calm himself down, but attempting to reassure himself only fueled his fire. He thought briefly of the myriad of protective charms on their flat - but hadn't she been out? No, he couldn't think like that. She was safe. She was safe. She was safe. But no matter how many times he repeated it, he couldn't convince himself here. He needed to get to Hermione. Nothing else mattered.

* * *

A/N: Sorry. This story is epilogue-compliant, though. And keep in mind that Ron's a bit paranoid at the mo, as well. Still, the next chapter is written, and I'll try to update a bit quicker than usual! As in Friday or Saturday. Also, now that we're getting into the thick of the action, please let me know if there seem to be any plot holes - I've tried my best, but it's completely possible I've forgotten to explain something important. (It's also possible the answer is still coming.) By the way: we are now over halfway! Thanks for reading. :)


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Hello again. I'm pleased to see that no one was _too_ upset by the cliffhanger in the last chapter - I'm glad it was pretty obvious that Ron was merely being a bit paranoid. Anyway, I love you all because you're awesome. These next couple chapters are a bit shorter than average, as we're simply getting a few smaller scenes out of the way in the lead up to Chapters 10 and 11, which are really rather huge and climactic and all that. Hope you enjoy :)

Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. Obviously.

* * *

"Hermione!" Ron bellowed as he stepped out of the fireplace, holding his wand at the ready. "Hermione!"

"What? What is it?" The petite brunette came scurrying from the direction of the bedroom, a look of alarm upon her face, but Ron couldn't allow himself to relax just yet.

"How did I propose to you?" he asked desperately, clutching his wand tightly.

"What?" Hermione repeated, her worried expression quickly growing more pronounced. "Ron, what's happened?"

"Answer the question!" Ron shot back tersely, gripping his wand still more firmly.

"We were at Hogwarts," Hermione answered shakily. "We were at Hogwarts, and we'd just…for the first time, and then you asked me."

Ron finally let out the breath he'd been holding since encountering Bulstrode five minutes earlier. "Thank Merlin," he breathed, dropping his wand to the ground and stepping forward to wrap Hermione in his arms.

"Ron, you're scaring me," Hermione said in a small voice as she tentatively returned his embrace. Ron only held her tighter and dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "Please tell me what's happened," she added in response to his silence, her voice nearly bursting with unshed tears.

"It's nothing," Ron replied gruffly. "I overreacted."

Hermione pulled back a bit to look at him properly. "Overreacted to what?"

Ron let out a sigh and began to rub her back soothingly. "We've arrested Greengrass and Bulstrode," he began, "and one of them threatened you. Said you weren't safe."

"I'm fine, Ron, I'm fine," Hermione said firmly. "The charms work perfectly, you know that."

"But you'd been out," Ron said desperately. "I just - fuck, Hermione, I was so scared."

"I'm alright," Hermione repeated, bringing her hands up to stroke his arms tenderly. "They were just trying to get under your skin, Ron. I've been home about an hour, and nothing's happened."

Ron took another deep breath. "And you're sure you're you?"

"Positive," Hermione confirmed with a smile, and she went on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss on the lips. "That help you figure it out?"

"Yeah, that was one of your kisses, alright," Ron smiled, allowing some of the tension to leave his body. "Fucking hell, I s'pose I've got to go back there."

"Don't tell me you just ran out," Hermione scolded, frowning again. "Ron, I was alright the whole -"

"But I didn't know that," Ron cut in sharply. "I had to check, you know I did. You would have done, too."

Hermione sighed in acceptance and nodded. "Of course. But Ron, you really can't let them manipulate you like that. What if the situation hadn't been under control? What if you'd been out on the field?"

"Don't you think I know that?" Ron snapped, causing Hermione's face to crumple a bit. "Oh, shit, I didn't mean to -"

"It's fine, you've had a stressful day," she assured him, squeezing his arms comfortingly. "Go back."

"I don't want to leave you," Ron fretted.

"I've got to go too, Ron," Hermione insisted. "I promised my mum I'd drop by again for a bit."

"You're not leaving!" Ron exclaimed. "After somebody tied with a fucking Death Eater revival contingent's threatened your life? No bloody way!"

"Ron, there's an Auror keeping watch at my parents' house at all times," Hermione retorted, clearly a bit annoyed now. "I'm not going to be able to stay inside forever! I'm going to be alright; you've got to go do your job."

"I can't do my job if you're off risking your life! Didn't we just see them yesterday?" Ron pleaded.

"I'm not risking my life; I'm seeing my parents. And you know why I'm seeing them, don't you? So that they'll show up to our wedding!" Hermione cried indignantly, stepping back from his embrace. "I'm a big girl, Ron! I'll be _fine_."

Ron blew all the air out of his lungs and grabbed at his hair, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at Hermione's annoyed expression. "Fine," he snapped. "But don't expect-"

"Just go on and do your job, will you?" Hermione asked angrily. "I'll see you when you're done at the office, and not a minute before! I don't care what they say, I'm _fine_, and I can take care of myself!"

"I said fine!" Ron very nearly bellowed."Send your parents my regards, yeah?"

He didn't wait for a response from Hermione; he simply turned on his heel and stormed back into the fireplace, grabbing a handful of Floo powder with more ferocity than was necessary and shouting "The Ministry!" quite loudly, as though to make his point. The last thing he saw before the flat disappeared from view was a defeated looking Hermione, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. Within minutes he'd made his way back to the Auror department, where Bryce and Isaac were sitting at their desks waiting for him.

"Your girl alright?" Bryce asked sympathetically, though Ron could tell from his expression that the elder man thought his actions had been rash.

"Fine," Ron answered shortly. "Who's questioning Bulstrode?"

"We already did," Isaac replied coolly. "It was a rather short conversation. She didn't confess outright, but she didn't need to, did she?"

"Nothing new, then?" Ron asked dejectedly.

"'Fraid not," Bryce confirmed. "Anyway, we're charging the three of them for the threats, and they'll be held in Azkaban til trial. Should be a quick one, really, especially once we've got the warrant to do a thorough search of their homes. Still, I can't imagine their sentences will be much longer than a year or so, and that's mostly because they were all violent upon arrest."

"But the meeting," Ron persisted. "It must have been orchestrated by that group; there's no way the three of them got all that information independently. And they haven't got a motive, either; I don't buy for one second that they did it just to mess with us."

"We just don't know," Isaac shook his head sadly. "We can watch that original house, but chances are nothing will come of it. The three of them just aren't talking. We're not done trying, of course, and we can talk to their families, but I wouldn't bet on anything new coming up. And there's not really anyone else to question, is there? The only known Death Eaters left out there are the Malfoys, and I'd put down my next year's salary that they haven't got anything to do with it, especially after what we've heard from the youngest one."

"We're keeping the protection on the victims indefinitely," Bryce continued, "but there's nothing else either of us can think to do for the time being. The search teams are hard at work, and we'll have to investigate what they find as it comes up. Any other ideas?"

"I'm all out, too," Ron sighed in defeat. "Paperwork, then?"

"Shitton of paperwork," Bryce confirmed, tossing a pile of parchment toward Ron. "Shouldn't take more than an hour if you get down to it."

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Ron muttered.

Eighty long minutes later, Ron had finished his share of the paperwork and once again made his way through the corridors of the Ministry. A million thoughts were racing through his head, but he couldn't for the life of him determine which ones were actually important. He couldn't even set his mind on one specific idea; every time he tried, his dull headache would become sharp and focused. His best bet was ignoring the roaring of voices and ideas in his head for the time being, though he realized as he stepped into one of the fireplaces in the atrium that this partial respite would likely be short-lived, given the huff he'd left in earlier. But whatever he expected when he got home, it certainly wasn't what actually awaited him: Hermione was sitting at the kitchen table, head in her hands, clearly crying.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked immediately after stepping out of the fireplace, hurrying over to place a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Did something happen at your parents?"

Hermione didn't look up; she audibly choked back a sob before managing to respond: "I-I'm so sorry!"

Ron's brow furrowed; he certainly hadn't expected to hear that. "What for?"

"I-I'm going to be a terrible wife!" Hermione lamented, her voice muffled due to her refusal to lift her head.

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked, frustrated. "Hermione, whatever they told you-"

"I didn't go to my parents'!" Hermione cried, sniffing and wiping her eyes but still refusing to meet Ron's worried gaze. "You ought to be happy, don't you think?"

Ron let out a heavy sigh. Of course. Thoughts of their earlier row had been pushed to the back of his mind in favor of the case and the paperwork accompanying it, but now, the guilt was creeping steadily into his thoughts. "Hermione, I'm sorry. I really am, I didn't want you to break your plans with your parents, I just-"

"You were stressed, I know!" Hermione said, at last meeting his eyes with her bloodshot ones. Ron was momentarily relieved to see that she had stopped crying. "You were stressed out, and what did I do? I picked a fight when all you were was worried about me!"

"Well, I was a bit out of order, trying to tell you what to do," Ron replied uncomfortably, unsure where she was going with this.

"But you had my best interest at heart! You always do, and here I am fighting you on it at every turn like a controlling bit-"

"Don't call yourself that," Ron cut in sharply. "Hermione, that was hardly even a row!"

"You were already stressed, and I only made it worse," Hermione objected. "I just - I don't know how we're meant to be married if all I'm going to do is make things worse for you!"

"You don't make things worse!" Ron cried exasperatedly. "We were both on edge, it's fine, you're being _mental_-"

"And now we're rowing about whether or not it was a row!" Hermione continued, apparently not hearing him. "This is how marriages fall apart, Ron, it's fights like these! And if I'm going to be instigating conflict like an insolent shrew when all you're trying to do is protect me-"

Ron didn't know what else to do, how else to make her see sense, so instead, he leaned in and kissed her hard on the mouth. "Nobody insults you," he nearly growled when he pulled back. "Nobody insults you, not even you, understand?"

"But-" Hermione whimpered, but Ron wasn't having it.

"I love you," he said in a low, firm voice, and then he leaned in and kissed her again, softer than the last but equally as passionate.

After only seconds, Hermione let out a moan and began to tug his shirt out of his trousers as she stood. He stepped back for a moment, and she took the opportunity to unclasp his robe and let it drop to the floor. They stared at each other for barely the amount of time it took to blink, and then they were in each other's arms again, and his lips were on Hermione's neck, and the things her hands were doing…he began to maneuver them back toward the bedroom, smashing into the walls on either side of the narrow hallway no less than three times on their way, until finally, they were in their bed, clothes forgotten, their thoughts focused on nothing but each other.

She lay sprawled across his chest afterward; his arms were wrapped around her waist, and one of her hands was absentmindedly stroking his hair and rubbing his scalp in a way that felt almost too amazing to be allowed. Their comfortable silence was only broken when Hermione spoke, softly but matter-of-factly: "We haven't got a clue what we're doing, have we?"

Ron tightened his grip around her waist in response. "I don't know. I like to think we've got some clue."

"We've literally just tried to shag our problems away," Hermione replied doubtfully.

Ron adjusted so he could look at her properly. "Tried?" he smirked.

"You know what I mean," Hermione scowled. "Ron, we've just had a row!"

"We didn't, really," Ron reasoned. "It was more of a scuffle."

"Please take this seriously," Hermione sighed.

"You're overreacting, love," Ron replied. "As far as our rows go, that was pretty tame."

"But it's the fact that we're rowing at all!" Hermione protested. "We can't be on each other's cases like that when we're already stressed; it'll only make things worse!"

"I don't think we can help it," Ron pointed out. "It's the rest of our lives we're talking about, you know; it's not like we're never going to fight again."

"Well, of course not, but over something stupid like that?" Hermione insisted.

"I like our stupid fights," Ron replied dismissively, leaning down and kissing her on the forehead.

"I don't," Hermione retorted with a slight frown.

Ron sighed heavily and shifted again so that they were now lying on their sides, facing one another. It was difficult to have a serious conversation when he had a naked Hermione on top of him - not that it was easy to have a conversation with a naked Hermione next to him, mind, but at least this way her breasts wouldn't be pressed up against his chest in that way that always made him want another go.

"Please tell me what you're on about," Ron requested in the most pleasant tone he could muster. "I'm not going to know unless you tell me."

Hermione was quiet then; her eyes darted around the room before settling back on his eyes. She took a deep breath before saying, in a very small voice: "What if my parents are right?"

Ron could feel his heart sinking, but he forced himself to ask for clarification: "What do you mean?"

"It's just - sometimes it feels like we haven't got a clue what we're getting ourselves into."

"But we've talked about this sort of thing a thousand times, Hermione, and we're figuring it out together," Ron argued, determinedly ignoring the bile that was rising in his throat.

Hermione must have detected something in the tone of his voice, because her own tone softened as she quickly replied: "Of course we are. I'm not questioning that it's you I'm meant to be with, Ron."

"Then what are you questioning?" Ron prompted, his brow furrowing again.

Hermione sighed heavily."I just - I don't want us to wind up resenting each other twenty years from now."

"Not possible," Ron responded immediately. "Otherwise it would've happened a long time ago."

"I'm being serious, Ron," Hermione protested.

"And so am I," he insisted. "But it's like I said, we've talked about this stuff before, haven't we? What's this really about?"

"Okay, fine! I'm scared," Hermione admitted shrilly. "It's completely stupid, but I'm terrified! I can try to write it off as the good kind of nerves all I want, but that doesn't change the fact that there's a part of me that's scared stiff in the worst kind of way!"

"What exactly are you scared of, though?" Ron pressed, more confused now than ever, hoping his mounting frustration wasn't completely obvious.

"I don't know!" Hermione cried.

"That's helpful, thanks," Ron couldn't help but retort. "I mean…fuck, Hermione, what are you saying? 'Cause it sounds a hell of a lot like you're rethinking things, and if that's it…well, I need to know now, don't I?" He felt a swooshing in his stomach, but he forced himself to look her in the eyes as he asked her.

"Oh no, I want to get married," Hermione said hastily, placing a hand against his chest. "Ron, you know I love you."

Ron slowly exhaled all the air from his lungs to stop himself from snapping. "You aren't making any sense," he told her as calmly as he could. "Are you…are you scared we're going to row too much? We haven't had a bad fight in ages, love, and not since we got together."

"I know, I do. And that's only part of it," Hermione replied honestly. "I-I just don't know. I haven't been able to talk to anybody about this, and how could I? I've been trying to convince everyone that it's perfect because if it's not, then I'm wrong."

"Well, you can tell me anything you want to," Ron said uncertainly, but when her face softened he realized that it had been the right thing to say.

"It's just…everyone's been telling us that marriage is something you have to be willing to work at," Hermione said slowly.

"Yeah," Ron acknowledged. "We know that."

"Yes, I know, and we're good at working through things together," Hermione continued. "We're better at it now than we ever have been."

"So what is it that's bothering you?" Ron prompted.

"It just worries me when we snipe at each other like we did earlier," Hermione said honestly. "I mean…this is the first _real _relationship for both of us, and we are quite young. Sometimes I just wonder whether they're right, and whether we really don't know what's coming. And it's just…we can say we'll face it all together, and we can mean it, but it scares me a bit when we row over things that don't matter."

"So we'll talk things out," Ron reasoned, moving his arm around her so that he could rub the small of her back. "Like we're doing now, see? I mean, Hermione, we both say stupid things all the time, but the difference now is that we can swallow our pride and apologize."

"I know," Hermione replied, taking a deep breath. "I've got no doubt that we can do it, really."

"Nor do I," Ron affirmed, drawing her closer and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "So why the breakdown, then, if you don't mind my asking?"

Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully and hesitated for a moment. "I…I don't know. I think everyone gets a bit nervous before getting married, of course, but I just…it's like I can't tell anybody about it."

"Why not?" Ron asked.

"Because I've spent the last six months trying to convince everybody else that we know exactly what we're doing," Hermione explained. "I don't want anybody trying to tell me that being nervous is a sign that we're making a mistake, because I don't think it is."

"I don't think so either," Ron said automatically. "We're getting married; it's sort of a big deal. Obviously we're going to be a little nervous about it all."

"So I'm told," Hermione agreed with a slight laugh. "Listen, about today…what we have together, Ron…you make me so happy, and we're so incredibly _right_. I don't ever want us to lose sight of that."

"And we won't," Ron said immediately, "because I, Ronald Bilius Weasley, promise you, Hermione Jean Granger, that I will always listen to you and put up with you and love you, even when you're being bloody mental."

Hermione smirked and rolled her eyes, but she responded: "And I, Hermione Jean Granger, promise you, Ronald Bilius Weasley, that I will always listen to you and put up with you and love you, even when you're being an insufferable prat."

"Good, we've got the vows written, then," Ron quipped, and Hermione giggled and poked him in the sides. Letting out a mock howl of pain, Ron wrapped his arms tightly around her. "Seriously - we're okay, yeah?" he murmured into her ear.

"We were never not okay," Hermione affirmed, returning his embrace in kind. "I'm sorry. Look, I know it feels like we're beating a dead thestral here, it's just that…what with everything we've been dealing with these last few months…I guess it all just gets to be a bit much sometimes. I just want everything to be perfect, and I've never really been good under stress; I know I haven't, but I can't take it out on you, and I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too. I've been known to snap under pressure myself, but that's why we've got each other, yeah?" Ron replied. "And you're gonna be the best fucking wife in the world, you know that, right?"

Hermione snorted. "I sincerely doubt that."

"Well, I'm the only one that's got to think so," Ron pointed out, and Hermione laughed again.

"You'll be the best husband, too," she said quietly.

"I'll try my damnedest," Ron replied solemnly.

"Sorry again for being mental," Hermione murmured, kissing him softly once more before snuggling further into his arms.

"Nah, it's just who you are," Ron teased gently. "And it's you and me for good, love. You aren't getting rid of me that easily."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Hermione murmured. "You and me."

And they didn't need to say anything more that night, because really, even in the complicated mess their lives might become, it was just as simple as that.

* * *

A/N: I've always been a little unsure about this chapter, but I knew a conversation like this needed to happen. Hermione has been a bit preoccupied with perfection thus far in the story, and I think it's important she was open about her anxieties with Ron - and of course, he needed to do his best to calm her down. Another fairly short chapter to come soon (probably around Tuesday), then we hit the big stuff! Thanks for reading. :)


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thank you as ever for reading and reviewing and being generally lovely people. This chapter is again a bit shorter and should set us up for Ch10-11, which are going to be action-packed to say the least. The first bit of the chapter takes place five days after the last chapter, and the second bit takes place one week after the first bit. I have to say this isn't exactly my favorite chapter, as it's mostly filler between the last few and the next few, but hopefully you'll all enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I can't even afford new tennis shoes.

* * *

"I am a bit surprised to see you this morning, dear," Mrs. Weasley said as she set a cup of tea on the table in front of Hermione. "If you'd have popped round a bit earlier, I could have fed you a spot of breakfast."

"That's alright, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione replied. "I just had the day off and figured I might see if you were up for discussing the last of the wedding plans."

"Well, of course!" Mrs. Weasley enthused. "You've got the whole day off, then?"

"Yes," Hermione said, "I just decided yesterday that I'd take my personal day today, otherwise I'd have given you more notice. It's been a bit of a stressful week."

"Of course, dear. And you know you're welcome here anytime. We're family, and that means thick or thin," Mrs. Weasley replied sympathetically as she took a seat across from Hermione at the small kitchen table. "But I understand the right people are in custody now?"

"I think so," Hermione said slowly. "They're still working hard trying to get everything pieced together before the trials, though, and there are a few gaps to be filled in yet. Ron's had to work late the last few nights."

"And so soon before the wedding, too," Mrs. Weasley lamented. "I do hope it all gets sorted out before then."

"So do I," Hermione replied honestly.

"Only three weeks now, can you believe it? Your mum seems quite excited," Mrs. Weasley commented. "We've been corresponding, you know."

"She mentioned as much," Hermione said.

"And she's told me your father's coming around a bit," Mrs. Weasley added tentatively.

"Yes, he is," Hermione replied. "We've talked about it, like adults this time, and it's helped a lot. He and Ron had a bit of a chat for the first time when we were there last weekend as well, and I think it put his mind at rest to realize I really am marrying a good man."

"Does he still think it's a bit fast?" Mrs. Weasley asked, her tone a little cryptic.

"I think so," Hermione said thoughtfully, biting her lip. "So does my mum, though."

"Well, so do I," Mrs. Weasley admitted frankly. "I have to say, Hermione, I was honestly a bit concerned when I realized you and Ron had only been together a year."

"But you've been so supportive," Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Well, yes," Mrs. Weasley acknowledged. "I got married quite young too, you know, and look at Arthur and me. Thirty years and seven children later, not to mention two wars and more heartbreak than anyone ought to see, and we're still just as in love as the day we were bonded. More so, actually."

Hermione smiled. "You and Mr. Weasley really are made for each other."

"And so are you and Ron," Mrs. Weasley said kindly. "You make my son incredibly happy, Hermione, and it's been obvious that was the case since the two of you were about fifteen."

"If only it had been obvious to us," Hermione replied with a laugh.

"Well, you came around," Mrs. Weasley chortled. "The two of you have already been to hell and back. You'll be able to handle anything life throws at you, dear."

"That's what we think, too," Hermione said, suddenly feeling rather shy. "It's a bit scary, you know, but it's mostly the good kind of scary."

"The best things in life always are," Mrs. Weasley said wisely. "But when you've got the right person at your side, it's not so bad at all."

"No, it's not," Hermione agreed with a smile. "And there's nobody else I'd want to be with, for any of it."

Mrs. Weasley's grin grew wider. "Of course not, dear. But…I was wondering…if I could ask…when _did_ the two of you start dating?"

"Well, officially it was last July," Hermione replied.

"Officially?" Mrs. Weasley asked casually. "How do you mean, officially?"

"Well, that was when we said as much," Hermione answered, shifting a little in her seat as she spoke. "It's hard to pinpoint, otherwise, because it had been such a long time coming."

"I see," Mrs. Weasley replied. "I have to say, I was a bit surprised to realize my Ronnie wanted to make such a huge commitment so quickly," she added with a laugh.

"So was I," Hermione confided. "But that's how I knew he was sure about it, you know? That it's what he really wants, I mean."

"Absolutely," Mrs. Weasley nodded. "And besides, as much as I was surprised, it's not as though I didn't know the two of you had been out looking at flats over Christmas."

"Oh," Hermione said, blushing. "We didn't realize anyone knew about that."

"Ron left a couple of the listings in his bedroom here," Mrs. Weasley explained with a kind smile.

"We thought it might bother you," Hermione admitted embarrassedly.

"Oh, nonsense," Mrs. Weasley replied, batting a hand as though to throw off Hermione's concerns. "I'm not naïve enough to disregard what the lot of you get up to when you're not under my roof. You're adults, and it's your decision - so long as you're being careful about it, of course. There are far more important things to be getting on with, anyway."

Hermione smiled slightly, willing the color in her cheeks to dissipate. "Thank you," she said awkwardly, for lack of any other response.

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Weasley replied matter-of-factly. "Far be it from me to keep one of my children from being happy."

Hermione couldn't help but cast her mind back to the times the elder woman had vehemently objected not only to Bill's relationship with Fleur, but to the twins' desire to start a joke shop - but Mrs. Weasley seemed to anticipate her line of thought.

"Like I said, it all seems a bit silly, especially given all that's happened," she continued. "But perhaps that's the disconnect between you and your parents."

"You mean that they weren't here for the war," Hermione said knowingly. "I think that's part of it."

"Probably a large part," Mrs. Weasley pointed out. "Take it from me, dear, no one likes to know their children are suffering, whether it be during or after the fact. Harry and Ron in particular were there for you in a way your parents couldn't be during the worst time in any of your lives. It's difficult for a parent to accept."

"Was it difficult for you?" Hermione asked, frowning a little. "I'm sorry if that's a bit personal, but-"

"Of course it was," Mrs. Weasley interrupted. "It breaks my heart, to say the least, all of it does. I've spent my life trying to protect my children from everything that can hurt them, and to realize that I couldn't…I knew it wasn't my fault, of course, but it didn't stop me feeling as though I'd failed. It's hard to explain, but you'll understand better when you and Ron have children. Though I must say, I hope you don't ever have to understand it in the way I have."

Both women's eyes trailed, then, to the picture of Fred that adorned the wall, situated right next to the family clock. "I think I understand," Hermione said slowly. "As well as I can, anyway."

"Well, I believe that's part of where your parents are coming from," Mrs. Weasley said kindly. "There's a gap there, you see, and they realized far too late that they couldn't protect you. In fact, you had to protect them. It's quite a lot for anyone to come to terms with, really, and the news of an engagement must have come as a bit of a shock on top of it all."

"I understand," Hermione repeated. "It was just hard to feel bad for them, you know, when they were pushing back so firmly."

"Absolutely," Mrs. Weasley acknowledged. "But you're moving past that now, yes?"

"We are," Hermione confirmed with a small smile. "Like I said before, I think they realize now that it's not just anybody; it's _Ron_."

Mrs. Weasley laughed good-naturedly. "Well, he's certainly never been just anybody, my Ronnie. I think he got lost in the scuffle a bit at times, but he's always been something special. Headstrong and stubborn, even from a young age, wearing his emotions on his sleeve and trying to carve out his own place in the world. He was always the strategist too, of course, whether it was avoiding the twins or skiving off chores or manipulating the chess board. He was seven years old when he beat Arthur for the first time, you know. And he's always been fiercely loyal, of course - a family trait, I daresay, but it's really quite exceptional in Ron."

"It is," Hermione agreed with a smile. "Ron is the best man I know."

"And you know the savior of the Wizarding World," Mrs. Weasley observed with a wry smile. "I'd always wondered, you know, whether Ron would wind up in Harry's shadow. I think he felt as much at times."

"He did," Hermione replied shortly, her mind drifting briefly to the things Ron had told her about Riddle's locket. "But in the end, of course, Harry's his best friend, and that was more important to him than anything else."

"Of course," Mrs. Weasley said.

"And he's doing so well in the Auror department," Hermione continued, overwhelmed with the urge to protect her fiancé - though she knew he needed no protection from his own mother, who loved him unconditionally, she couldn't help but explain further. "I think there were people there, at the beginning, who thought he was only in it because he was Harry's mate, but it couldn't be further from the truth. He's really making a mark for himself, and it's been so good for him. He's always had the potential."

"I have to be honest, Hermione. I think you've got something to do with that," Mrs. Weasley said with a smile. "Not to say it's not of his own merit, of course, because it absolutely is, but I think you've helped him to believe in himself in a way that he might not have been able to on his own."

Hermione nodded and blushed. "He's done the same for me," she admitted quietly, thinking of the warm feeling she got whenever Ron encouraged her or supported her.

Mrs. Weasley beamed and reached out to take Hermione's hand. "You know I love you as my own daughter, dear, and I'm simply ecstatic to make it official."

Hermione had to choke back tears as she replied, "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. You-you've really been like a second mum to me, these past years."

"It's in my nature, you might say," Mrs. Weasley chuckled, and the two women shared a moment of contemplative silence before they once more began to plan the event that would take place in three weeks' time - the event that would make Hermione yet another Mrs. Weasley.

_-000-_

"There's nothing, absolutely nothing!" Ron moaned as he threw himself into his desk chair and buried his face in his hands.

"Be a bit more melodramatic, will you?" Harry deadpanned as he leafed through the latest stack of paperwork.

"It's been two weeks," Ron pointed out exasperatedly. "Two weeks, and _nothing_ about that fucking meeting."

"It's bothering me, too," Harry sighed, putting his self-inking quill away and stretching in his seat. "I just don't understand how that group's made itself so untraceable. How the hell could there be nothing in any of the women's residences? Not even the masks!"

"Well, Bulstrode and Greengrass will have got rid of them after the raid," Ron pointed out fairly. "Assuming they ever had them at all, if you listen to Isaac."

"He's got a point," Harry acknowledged, "but I don't there's any way the two are unrelated."

"I won't argue you on that," Ron replied. "We thought Death Eaters the second we got the letter. There's no way it's a coincidence."

"Then why are there no traces of the group?" Harry asked, frustrated. "It just doesn't make sense, when we've got so much evidence against the three of them after the searches."

"You don't have to tell _me_," Ron said. "It just means they're organized, doesn't it? And given what Bulstrode said about Hermione…"

"She's safe," Harry cut in, though he didn't sound utterly convinced himself. "Security's been doubled, yeah?"

"S'pose so," Ron replied. Before either of them could continue, Isaac appeared in front of Harry's desk.

"Have you lot got the last of the paperwork for the week?" he asked briskly. "DMLE needs it now."

"It's right here," Harry said, shoving the large stack of parchment into Isaac's waiting hands. "We're all set for the trial, then?"

"Seems that way," Isaac replied. "It'll be a bit of a relief to have them behind bars, yeah?"

"A bit," Ron said shortly.

Isaac sighed. "Look, Weasley, I know it seems they were working for somebody-"

"Of course they were," Ron cut in. "It's obvious, isn't it?"

Isaac looked around warily before answering: "Yeah, I'd say so. We've got to hope something comes out in trial, I suppose, because you know as well as I do that there's no trace of anyone else's involvement."

"But we all know nothing's going to come out in trial!" Harry cried. "Merlin, it's almost enough to make me wish Veritaserum was legal."

"Almost being the key word there," Isaac said wisely. "I know it's frustrating, and doubly so when someone you care about's been threatened, but we're doing all we can within the boundaries of the law."

"I have to say, it was all a bit easier when we disregarded the rules," Harry quipped.

Isaac snorted. "As a point of interest, Potter, have the goblins let you back into Gringotts yet?"

"Grudgingly," Harry admitted. "But we got what we needed, didn't we?"

"Dunno. Not all of us were privy to the full story," Isaac replied.

Just then, Harris, one of the senior supervisors, dropped by their section of desks. "You got the papers for the lawyers, Parker?" he asked gruffly. "Thanks. And Weasley, I think it's your fiancée that's waiting out in the lobby."

"Oh yeah!" Ron scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over himself in his haste to get outside. Hermione was sitting in one of the chairs, reading through a stack of paperwork nearly as thick as that which Harris had just collected. "Hey, love," he greeted her.

"Hello," Hermione said pleasantly, looking up from her work to smile at him briefly before making a note on the parchment and stuffing it into her briefcase. "Are you ready to go?"

"Just about," Ron replied, offering a hand to help her to her feet. "Have you been waiting long?"

"Not at all," Hermione said, rising up to her tiptoes to kiss him quickly on the lips. "I got a start my case for next week, anyway."

"This is the elves, still?" Ron asked with a grin.

"They've finally set the presentation for Tuesday," Hermione answered, beaming. "And about time, too, I was beginning to think they'd wrestle their way out of it, but _somebody_ needs to listen!"

"They'll listen to you if they know what's right for them," Ron said with a laugh. "You'll put the work away for our date tonight though, yeah?"

"Of course," Hermione replied indignantly.

"I've just got to get my things. You can come in," Ron said hastily, before Hermione could become annoyed. She nodded and followed him back into the office, where Isaac and Harry were still talking at the latter's desk.

"Hey, Hermione!" Harry greeted her as she and Ron made their way to his desk.

"Hello, Harry," Hermione replied, then she looked between Isaac and Ron expectantly.

"Oh, yeah. This is Isaac Parker, one of the seniors we've been working with. And Isaac, this is the future Mrs. Hermione Weasley," Ron said proudly, ignoring Harry's slight eye-roll and reveling in the blush that spread across Hermione's cheeks.

"Pleasure," Isaac said as he shook Hermione's hand. "We've certainly heard a lot about you."

"Good things, I hope," Hermione said with a bit of a nervous laugh.

Harry snorted. "I've known you eight years and I still hear a lot of good things about you from Ron, Hermione - most of which I didn't want to hear, mind."

"Oh, ha," Ron said, scowling at his supposed best mate as he began to pack up his things for the weekend. "Now if you don't mind, _we_ have a date."

Ron pointedly ignored Harry's muttered response, which suspiciously seemed to contain both the words "date" and "sister," and Hermione sighed heavily. "The testosterone in here is suffocating," she remarked.

Isaac laughed. "Were they like this in their school days as well?"

"Probably, but back then I was used to it," Hermione answered thoughtfully. "Generally Ginny's there now to balance it out."

"Oi, we're not so bad," Ron protested.

"No, you're not," Hermione admitted, laughing good-naturedly and reaching out to take Ron's hand as he approached her again, paperwork in tow. "We'll see you tomorrow then, Harry?"

"Yeah, but forget about the take-away. Ginny thinks the two of us ought to cook for you," Harry replied, wrinkling his nose a bit.

"Oh, that'll be nice!" Hermione gushed.

"So I've heard," Harry said flatly. His face so obviously gave away his preference for disgustingly greasy take-away food that Ron had to suppress a laugh.

"We'll see ya, mate," Ron said amusedly, but he and Hermione had hardly turned toward the door when they were interrupted by a clearly distraught Bryce, hurtling toward the group from the inner depths of the office.

"They've escaped," he panted out as he approached them, his voice deceptively calm in contrast to the anxiety that was painted across his face. "We dunno how, but the three of them are gone, and there's no trace."

"What?" Harry stood up, alarmed.

"That's not the worst of it. There's been an attack; the protection was breached. Last I heard it's a hostage situation, both victims alive. They sent Riley and Marlene straight away, they were on duty, and a bigger group's just gone out now. But if they got past whoever was guarding the house, they're dangerous. We're set to go with the third wave in five minutes," Bryce spoke very quickly.

"What do you mean, an attack?" Hermione asked very quietly. Her face was deathly pale. Bryce turned to face her for the first time since he'd arrived, seemingly just noticing her presence. His expression twisted horribly, and he didn't need to say the words for Ron to understand exactly what had happened. Ron felt his stomach drop; he caught Harry's eye and immediately wished he hadn't, for he was sure that the devastated, terrified expression he found on his best mate's face would be reflected on his own.

"Just stay right here, Hermione," Ron tried to say, but she ignored him, squeezing his hand so tightly he would have complained in any other circumstance.

"Who's been attacked?" she repeated, her voice louder this time, but shaking.

Bryce took a deep breath."I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. We need to go."

"Tell me!" Hermione insisted, her panicky voice rising an octave to a screech. "Just tell me exactly what's happened!"

"I'm so sorry," Bryce repeated after a beat of hesitation, his expression twisting even further, "but there's been an attack at your parents' home."

* * *

A/N: I promise I'll update soon.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Again, very sorry about the cliffhanger. But hey, at least I updated quickly, right?

Disclaimer: I live about 4000 miles away from J.K. Rowling and I have about $20 to my name. If I was making money off of this both of these things would likely change. But I'm not. So broke on.

* * *

_"Who's been attacked?" she repeated, her voice louder this time, but shaking._

_Bryce took a deep breath."I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. We need to go."_

_"Tell me!" Hermione insisted, her panicky voice rising an octave to a screech. "Just tell me exactly what's happened!"_

_"I'm so sorry," Bryce repeated after a beat of hesitation, his expression twisting even further, "but there's been an attack at your parents' home."_

"We've got to go," Isaac said matter-of-factly as Hermione collapsed into the nearest chair, Ron kneeling down with her and squeezing her hand tightly. "You said five minutes, Bryce?"

"It'll be less than four now," Bryce replied. "Bring a wand and a clear head. This time we're taking a Portkey to get there, in case the protective charms are back up." He waved around a fairly large, jagged rock he had his hand, which Ron had only just noticed.

"You said there're people there already?" Harry said sharply as he moved from behind his desk to place a comforting hand on Hermione's trembling shoulder. Ron rubbed her hand with the back of his thumb; she looked deathly pale.

"About a dozen by now. Like I said, last I heard it's a hostage situation. They're alive, and that's what's important. I'm so sorry you had to hear about it like this, Ms. Granger, but we've been trained for this, and we're going to do our best to diffuse the situation as quickly as possible," Bryce said, turning to address Hermione as calmly and professionally as he could.

"I'm coming along!" Hermione insisted suddenly, her voice stronger than it had been since Bryce had arrived.

"Like hell you are," Ron retorted fiercely. "You're staying right here!"

"They're my parents, Ron!" Hermione snapped, nearly stumbling as she stood up on wobbling legs and turning to face him. "You can't honestly expect me to sit here while they're being held hostage!"

"Well, I do!" Ron bellowed. "Brilliant as you are, Hermione, you haven't been trained for this, and you risking your life isn't going to help matters any! And what if it's a trap? What if the fuckers _want_ you there?"

"He's right," Harry confirmed quietly, cutting off what was sure to be an angry retort from Hermione. "And even if you were qualified, we can't expect you to keep a clear head about this. Even Ron being involved is bending the rules a bit. But we'll do our best to bring them back, Hermione." He patted her shoulder once and went over to join Isaac and Bryce around the Portkey, tactfully allowing Ron and Hermione a moment in semi-privacy.

Tears were filling Hermione's eyes at an alarming rate; she was very nearly hyperventilating, and she looked liable to faint at any second. "Two minutes," Bryce told them sharply, and Ron shot him a dirty look as he took Hermione into his arms.

"We'll get them back," he said determinedly as he rubbed her back. "We'll all be back before you know it, love."

"I can't just sit here, Ron," Hermione sobbed into his shoulder, pounding her fists lightly against his chest. "I can't be expected to sit here while everybody I love is out there facing who knows what!"

"We'll be back before you know it," Ron repeated, perfectly aware that he was quite possibly lying. "Trust us, Hermione."

"I do, I trust you," she cried, bringing her arms out from between their chests to wrap them tightly around his torso. After a short moment, Ron leaned his head back so that he could rest his forehead against hers.

"You know we'd take you if we could," he told her, unsure of what else to say.

"You wouldn't want to," Hermione choked out through her tears.

"Of course not. I'd never want to put you in danger," Ron admitted readily.

"So you know how I'm feeling, then," Hermione pointed out, taking deep, gasping breaths in between words as she attempted to calm herself down.

Ron sighed heavily. "I love you."

"Is that all you can say?" Hermione asked softly, blinking her eyes rapidly to control the tears.

"That's all I've got," Ron replied apologetically. "It'll have to be enough."

"It's always been," Hermione replied, her voice not much above a whisper now.

"I'm sorry it's not more," Ron said, knowing he couldn't give her the firm sort of reassurance she craved.

"One minute, Weasley!" Bryce shouted.

"I love you," Hermione said, almost breathlessly as she blinked away the last of her tears.

"I'll bring them back," Ron promised, leaning in and kissing her softly on the mouth.

"Bring yourself back, too," Hermione requested with a great sniff.

"I'll try," Ron said, making to break apart, but Hermione pulled him back.

"Trying's not enough," she whispered, looking imploringly into his eyes. "Promise me; if you're going to make me stay here, you've got to promise."

Ron sighed, bringing his hands to her face to brush away her tears. "We both know I can't promise anything. I'd fucking die for you, and you know it."

"No. Don't say things like that; I want you to live _with_ me," Hermione insisted. "Promise me, Ron."

"Hermione," Ron said slowly, "I'm going to do everything I can to make sure I'm around to see you walk down that aisle toward me on your dad's arm, and your mum's going to be crying her eyes out in the front row." He knew on some level that even though he couldn't promise anything, she needed to hear the words said aloud.

"Less than thirty seconds!" Bryce called impatiently.

Ron kissed Hermione quickly one more time. "I love you," they said simultaneously when they pulled away, and Ron hugged her tightly once more before joining the others and placing a hand on the jagged rock.

The last thing Ron saw before he felt the twisting in his gut was Hermione, collapsing once again into the chair by his desk, and he wished more than anything that she didn't have to cry alone. Willing the image from his mind, Ron set his jaw as they traveled. He couldn't let himself lose his head, especially with so much at stake - but how was he supposed to think straight, given the circumstances? But he had to, so he would - for her.

They arrived in the Grangers' back garden, where a group of ten Aurors stood, wands at the ready. Several of them were casting charms in the direction of the house, which appeared to be undamaged, at least from the outside. As he looked around for any signs of Dark magic, Ron could just make out the faint shimmering of the concealment charms that had been placed around the premises to keep away any prying neighbors.

"The house itself is Impenetrable," Jolene Tracy, a tall, severe-looking woman and one of the leaders of the field Aurors, said by way of greeting as Isaac, Bryce, Harry, and Ron set themselves right. "Robertson was on-duty. They already had a vague idea of where the house was, so once they'd overpowered the guard, taking down the protection we had was only too easy. They've got him and the two muggles in there, they have for about ten minutes now. We don't know how many of them there are in total. Marlene and Riley got here just as they were entering the house; they must've got a distress signal from Robertson, but it was too late to get inside. Luckily, we've nearly broken through the spells they put up."

"Do you know if they're alive? The Grangers, I mean?" Ron asked desperately, all pretense of a professional air out the window as he began to truly assess the situation.

"We're pretty damn sure. They wouldn't still be in there if they'd killed them; they'd have fought their way out by now if that was all they were here to do - but we've got the house tracked; we'd know pretty quickly if they left by magical means. And Robertson was alive; Marlene and Riley saw a couple of masked figures dragging him in. I don't think murder's their motive," Jolene explained, but Ron couldn't bring himself to sigh with relief just yet.

"I don't think we ought to ambush once the charms are down, then," Isaac remarked sharply. "We don't want to spook them into escalating the situation."

"Yes, we were planning to treat it as a hostage situation," Jolene said coolly. "I assumed we'd send the four of you in, as it's your case, and the rest of us would be your back-up."

"Perfect," Bryce agreed. "You think you can keep your head, Weasley? Potter?"

"We will," Harry replied, and Ron nodded his head in agreement. The case may be more personal to them than to the others, but the fact remained that the two of them had kept their cool in similar circumstances before - Ron didn't have to look at Harry to know that the Malfoy Manor was weighing on his mind as well.

"Sorted," Isaac said shortly. "But the two of you are taking a backseat, no question about it. No talking; support the victims if you can, that's your first priority. Let us worry about the captors."

"But have your wands ready," Bryce added. "There's no way we're getting out of this scot-free. There's something they're after, and I have a feeling they aren't going to want to sit around and talk about it for long."

"I'll put up the anti-Apparition ward once we're in," Isaac said. "That's the only protection I'll have on the place, that way your lot can get in if we need, Jolene."

Jolene nodded once. "Screeching charm's the signal?"

"Yep," Isaac confirmed.

"We're just about in!" shouted Sean Collins, a junior Auror about Harry and Ron's age. He and three others were casting spell after spell on the house, and Ron could sense that the magic on the place was beginning to break down.

"Get ready. We won't have much time," Isaac instructed. Harry and Ron followed him to the doorway, Bryce bringing up the rear. Ron glanced at Harry, whose face bore a mixture of terror and determination. Ron was momentarily comforted to see that the latter was winning out, and he took a deep breath and set his expression stoically.

"Almost there…ready…WE'RE IN!" Sean shouted, and Isaac blasted the door open as the foursome rushed into the house, wands aloft. Ron could feel Isaac set up the ward as soon as they entered, but his sense of hearing overwhelmed every other - there was a gut-wrenching scream coming from the direction of the sitting room.

"TELL ME! CRUCIO!" a harsh voice sounded, and Ron wished the hallway were shorter than it was as the outburst was followed by yet another terrible scream. It took every fiber of his being to remain in the moment, not to travel backward to those terrible minutes spent in a dungeon while similar screams rang out above him. But they weren't trapped this time; they were moving, and soon, Isaac had burst into the Grangers' normally pristine sitting room, a disarming charm on the tip of his tongue.

As Harry, Ron, and Bryce scurried into the disheveled room after Isaac, a dark wand flew into the latter's hand, but Ron had to hold back bile as he saw Mrs. Granger, still writhing horribly on the floor from the effects of the curse, while her husband sat a few yards away. He was slumped over, but his were eyes mostly alert, set in a blankly heartbroken, defeated gaze - he'd been tortured as well, Ron realized with a start. Most of the furniture in the room was upturned, and broken glass and torn photographs littered the mantle of the fireplace - the remnants, Ron deduced, of the framed and ordered display of pictures that had once been there.

There were about half a dozen masked figures surrounding the Grangers in a half-circle; all of their wands were pointed at the four Aurors. Ron gripped his wand just a little tighter as he gauged his chances of reaching the Grangers without being cursed; a quick glance at Bryce told him not to risk it.

"Nobody needs to get hurt here," Isaac said carefully. "Put down your wands and take off your masks."

"I'm afraid it won't be that simple," the tallest figure spoke in a low voice; this was the man whose wand Isaac had confiscated. Mrs. Granger began to stir then, slowly moving in her husband's direction - Ron glanced around quickly and was pleased to see that no one else was paying them much attention. For the first time, he noticed Robertson, bound and gagged on the sofa, but conscious.

"It's in your best interest to cooperate. We aren't alone, you see," Bryce said meaningfully, but the tallest figure laughed derisively, and the other six - there were exactly seven total, Ron noticed - mimicked their apparent leader.

"You say cooperate, but you mean surrender," the leader spat. "Curse us, and they die," he added mercilessly, gesturing the direction of the Grangers, who were now sat close together on the floor.

"We don't want to curse you," Isaac said reasonably as Ron bristled, taking a deep breath to maintain his temper.

"The masks have got to go, though," Bryce added as an afterthought, flicking his wand quickly and vanishing the masks before anyone quite knew what he had done. Ron was not surprised to see Greengrass, Parkinson, and Bulstrode; he recognized Goyle as well, and two former Slytherins who had been a few years above him. The leader, though, he couldn't quite place, though there was something familiar about him…he looked…_thick_, that was the best way to describe it, both by intelligence and body type, and there was a darkness in both his features and his demeanor, though his stare was rather blank…

"Rodolphus Lestrange," Harry said quietly, a bit of surprise evident in his tone. "You're meant to be dead."

"Appears I'm not, though, doesn't it?" Lestrange said disinterestedly. "Faked my own death, you see, back at Hogwarts. Had several hours' worth of Polyjuice on me, so I used it on a corpse. Was a bit of a risk, didn't even know if it'd _work_ on a dead bloke, but it lasted just long enough for a false identification. Quite clever, wasn't it?"

Ron had to suppress a shudder; the Grangers, having recovered a bit from the curses used against them, now looked utterly terrified.

"So you thought you'd come back, round up some of your old mates' kids and have a bit of fun, is that it?" Bryce asked scathingly. "Suppose you didn't have much choice, given the rest of your old play pals are either locked up or six feet under."

"What's it to you?" Lestrange shot back while the others laughed cruelly.

"Let's cut the bullshit. Why are you here, Lestrange?" Isaac asked, visibly gripping his wand just a little bit tighter.

"I would think that'd be obvious," Lestrange said. "I haven't got time to talk."

"Yet you don't seem to be doing much else," Bryce mocked. Though Ron knew Bryce was far more experienced than he, he couldn't help but internally scream that provoking Lestrange would do nobody any good.

"Thought you could torture these two for information about their daughter, did you?" Isaac asked sharply, gesturing toward the cowering Grangers.

"Again, what's it to you?" Lestrange repeated, raising his wand just a little higher.

"Well, threatening messages, escaped convicts, and tortured muggles don't seem to bode well for you," Bryce pointed out fairly.

"What's interesting to me is why there aren't more of you," Isaac continued. "Seems there's only seven left sympathetic to your cause, are there?"

"Had to start somewhere, didn't I?" Lestrange sneered. "But you're right, we ought to cut the bullshit. You're here because you want your precious muggles safe. Let us go, no retaliation, and you'll have that."

"You're barking if you think we're letting you free," Bryce snarled. "But I'm curious, you know, what exactly you meant to accomplish with all this. Hardly following your dead master's footsteps, really, and whose favor are you gaining now? It's just the seven of you left, isn't it? All the others are gone, dead or in Azkaban. Couldn't quite get the rest of them out, could you?"

"The heavier protective charms put on the cells of those serving a life sentence would have slipped you up a bit, I suppose, even if you did manage to get these three out of the lowest security zone there is," Isaac continued condescendingly, with a casual look of disdain in the direction of the three women.

"Shame we did away with the dementors," Bryce chimed in. Ron silently wished they would cut to the chase; it was all he could do not to curse the bastards standing before them on the spot.

"Let us go, and we'll let them go," Lestrange repeated, clearly beginning to lose his temper as he gestured toward the Grangers again.

"So that you can run off and torture more innocent muggles? Hardly bloody likely," Harry snapped, apparently deciding Isaac's initial order to remain quiet was no longer important. Ron would have done as well, if he weren't sure he'd end up making the situation worse.

"The Boy Who Lived, is it?" Lestrange spat in Harry's direction. "Surely you're not so stupid as to believe the Dark Lord's way of thinking would have died out with him? It does not matter how few of us remain; the truth will be known soon enough."

"So you're trying to make a statement, then?" Bryce snorted derisively. "Haven't done a very good job of it, I must say. It's quite pathetic, actually. Apparently you can't even execute scare tactics properly." Ron couldn't help but agree, but he wasn't ready to write them all off just yet - the Grangers were still in danger, after all.

"Not without Riddle or your insane wife to hold your hand, anyway," Harry added with disdain.

"It was ginger's mum that killed her, wasn't it?" Lestrange cut in, gesturing toward Ron with the hand that ought to have been holding his wand. "Bloody shame. A word from me and she'd be avenged in an instant."

Ron tightened his grip on his wand, but Bryce laughed contemptuously once more. "Yet the word's not coming. Seems you're a bit scared yourselves, mates. None of you's a proper Death Eater, after all, 'cept the one that hasn't got a wand."

"It's in your best interest to come quietly," Isaac added.

"Like hell it is!" Bulstrode shouted, the first of Lestrange's associates to have the gall to speak since the encounter began. "I'd rather die than surrender to a filthy mugglefucker like yourself," she added, gesturing toward Ron.

"Shut the fuck up, you bloody miserable twat!" Ron spat fiercely, well aware that he was merely stringing various swears together rather than forming a cutting insult as he struggled to keep the volume of his voice in check. He flickered his gaze to Mr. and Mrs. Granger once more; they seemed more terrified than ever, and they were looking between Bulstrode and Ron as if they weren't quite sure what was happening.

"This is tiresome," Parkinson added in an exaggeratedly bored voice.

"You're quite right, Pansy," Lestrange drawled. "This is your last chance to let us go, or we fight our way out."

But no one had a chance to say anything else; a jet of light shot, quite possibly on accident, from the tip of Goyle's wand, and chaos erupted. Isaac set off a screeching charm to call for back-up, and though everyone appeared to be shouting, Ron could hear nothing but white noise as curses shot left and right; the wandless Lestrange dove under the sofa in a blatant show of cowardice.

Ron immediately began to make his way toward the Grangers, dodging curses as he went. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had the good sense to duck down low to the floor as their captors attempted to jinx and hex the Aurors, who were just managing to shoot off Stunners between their Shield Charms. Bryce had managed to free Robertson, and they were binding Lestrange; Harry and Isaac had their hands full with the others. But just before Ron managed to reach the Grangers, time seemed to slow down: a jet of purple light had erupted from the wand of the nearest of Lestrange's cronies, and before Ron could so much as take another step, it had hit Mrs. Granger in the small of her back with such a force that he could hear the impact as she was thrown prostrate to the ground.

The screeching charm had stopped, but Ron still couldn't bring his ears to properly hear anything - and he was grateful for it, because Mr. Granger was shouting incomprehensibly as he shook his unconscious wife. "Let me!" Ron roared over the din as he reached them; the back-up had come in now, and the Aurors were easily overtaking the others. Mr. Granger would not let go of his wife as Ron rushed to find a pulse; it was all he could do not to sigh with relief when he managed it - feeble, but beating. Alive.

"She's alive! We've got to get out!" Ron shouted to the babbling, nearly sobbing Mr. Granger. "Follow me; we've got to get her out!"

Mr. Granger, even in his hysteria, seemed to vaguely understand what Ron was saying; together, they hoisted Mrs. Granger up and, supporting her on their shoulders, hurried from the room; there were no flying curses to dodge now, but Harry noticed them and hurried ahead of them, wand aloft, ready to hex anyone that got in their way.

"What happened to her? What happened?" Mr. Granger repeated in a voice that was no less than a scream when they at last made their way out into the back garden. "What the hell did they do to her?"

Ron helped him to lay her down on the ground; he checked her pulse again - still feeble, still beating. "I don't know, but she's alive." He heard Harry breathe a sigh of relief from his position at the door. "We need to take her to St. Mungo's."

"What the hell is St. Mungo's?" Mr. Granger shouted, not taking his eyes off his wife as he clutched her cold hand.

"It's our hospital. I need to take her there now, Mr. Granger; we don't know what she was hit with or what it's done to her!" Ron insisted, gathering his future mother-in-law into his arms; for the briefest of moments, he was thankful she had Hermione's petite figure.

"How don't you know?" Mr. Granger bellowed, still not relinquishing his wife's hand. "You're a fucking wizard, aren't you?"

"I'm an Auror, not a fucking medical professional!" Ron snapped. "I'm taking her to the hospital; they can help her there!"

"I'm coming with you!" Mr. Granger shouted, but Ron shook his head.

"You can't. Hermione needs you!" Ron told him desperately. "She's waiting, back at our offices; you wouldn't normally be allowed in, but you can if you've got Harry with you. Go!"

"But Karen-"

"She needs to see a Healer!" Ron shouted, matching Mr. Granger's distressed tone. "Please, Mr. Granger, I know you don't trust us, I _know_ how you feel about magic, but it's the only way! I promise, I'll bring you and Hermione there as soon as I get her the attention she needs!"

"Come with me, sir," Harry insisted, his business-like tone contrasting almost ludicrously with his pale, stricken face as he tugged Mr. Granger away from his wife. "Please, I can take you to Hermione." For just an instant, Harry lifted his eyes to meet Ron's in a fierce gaze, nodding in response to his unspoken request - he would take care of her until Ron could get there.

"We'll see you in a bit, Mr. Granger," Ron said, gripping his wand and turning on the spot before the elder man could protest. His last thought before the unpleasant sensation of Disapparition overtook him was of his promise to Hermione - Mrs. Granger _would_ be watching their wedding from the front row. She would be. She _had_ to be.

* * *

A/N: Another semi-cliffhanger, sorry. Much more to come in Chapter 11, particularly on the Granger front.

There are still obviously many loose ends to be tied re: the mystery as well, and that will be coming soon now that those responsible have been captured - that is, once we've dealt with the more pressing matter of Mrs. Granger's well-being. And by the way - yes, Lestrange as the orchestrator was meant to sort of come out of left field. Thankfully, this chapter contained the last action-based scene of the story - writing them is not my forte, haha!

Also, in the interest of giving credit where it's due - the lovely Ms. Diva-Gonzo alerted me to the possibility of using the term "mugglefucker." It seemed a Bulstrode-esque thing to say. Thanks for reading! Only three more chapters left. :)


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Hello all! I'm so sorry this took a few days longer than I expected; I had a bit of writer's block to contend with, and since this chapter is perhaps the most pivotal of the fic I wanted to be sure I got it right. I also got distracted by writing fluffy drabbles over the weekend - there's one called "Heat" and several more posted in a collection called "Kissing You," and they can all be found on this site if you're interested in reading some Romione loving. :)

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is a queen and I'm just another girl without a crown. (Bonus points if you can name the song.)

* * *

Not for the first time in his life, Ron thanked his lucky stars that there was a separate entrance to St. Mungo's for DMLE officials; located in a sort of back alley, it was easily accessible by Apparition, and any official arriving there was offered immediate assistance from the staff upon showing his identification badge. It was to this entrance that Ron took the unconscious Mrs. Granger, and within twenty seconds of his arrival she had been taken away on a sort of hovering stretcher, a small group of Healers surrounding her as another questioned Ron while leading him to a waiting room nearby.

"I don't know which curse it was. Purple light, and she was unconscious immediately. She's been tortured, too, dunno how long," Ron explained as he and the tall, dark-haired Healer accompanying him rounded a corner.

"The Cruciatus Curse?" the Healer, whose name badge read Oliver Ives, asked in a deep voice.

"Yeah," Ron confirmed. "But she was stirring after that; it wasn't til she was cursed that she fell unconscious."

"Thank you, Auror Weasley. Do you have to go back out?"

"Not yet; I'm not leaving til I know if she's going to be okay or not. She's gonna be my mother-in-law," he added in response to the strange look the Healer was giving him.

"Okay. Obviously we can't give out details to anyone that's not next-of-kin, but we'll give you a preliminary report as soon as we can. Ten minutes, give or take," Healer Ives said kindly. "Take a seat."

Though he was the only occupant, Ron chose the least comfortable-looking chair in the tiny waiting room and sat on the edge of it. He drummed his fingers against his knee as he looked around; there wasn't much to see in the room, but he took it all in anyway - the plain white walls, the assortment of chairs: some were wicker, like his, others resembled the squashy armchairs in the Gryffindor common room. As he looked about, he tried to wrap his mind around what all had happened.

Unless something spectacularly disastrous had happened in his absence, the perpetrators were in custody. In any other circumstance, he'd have been celebrating back at the office by now, but what had happened to the Grangers seemed to tarnish their victory. Both of Hermione's parents had been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse, that much was clear, and that alone was enough to make Ron want to throw up. But they were alive, he reminded himself. Things could have been so, _so_ much worse.

He began to tap his foot impatiently as the minutes slid together. He needed to get back to Hermione. She'd be devastated, of course; he could tell when they left that she had been holding herself together by a thread. He trusted Harry to try to keep her calm until he could get back, but he doubted the sight of her father's terrified, shell-shocked face would do much good on that front. If he could only be sure her mother was going to be okay, he could perhaps give her some much-needed relief and comfort.

After what seemed like an eternity in an anxiety-induced hell, Healer Ives reentered the room looking serious, but not quite grim. Ron jumped to his feet immediately.

"Auror Weasley," Healer Ives greeted him. "Barring any serious complications, Mrs. Granger will live."

Ron let out a sigh of relief he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Do you know what's wrong with her?"

"We're not entirely sure," Healer Ives replied apologetically. "We've managed to stabilize her, and we're doing the curse analytics now to figure out what her treatment ought to be. Has your department notified her next-of-kin? We'll only be able to release the details if they're here."

"I'm about to," Ron said. "Thank you. We'll be back here in a mo."

"Take all the time you need at your office. It'll likely be an hour before we'll have a conclusive report," Healer Ives informed him. Ron nodded and shook his hand before rushing back to the DMLE apparition point. He had to get to Hermione.

_-000-_

It hadn't been enough, Hermione thought desperately. It hadn't been enough that she was a sobbing, nervous wreck; Ron's superiors just _had_ to make her feel uncomfortable on top of it all. They hadn't spoken to her, though they had shot her a few funny looks, but the way they were strolling through the office, talking rather casually about the mission Harry and Ron were out on - the rescue of her _parents_ from former Death Eaters, for Merlin's sake - was incredibly disconcerting. She supposed the fact that she wasn't waiting for their return on her own ought to comfort her, but the mere presence of the gruff, middle-aged men had made her feel rather silly and embarrassed for being such an emotional mess, though she knew she had every right to be. Still, she was doing everything in her power to put up a calm façade; she knew, however, that she was failing spectacularly.

Hermione was jerked from her reverie by the sound of the door to the office slamming against the wall as it opened; through it walked two men, the younger one essentially dragging the other as he went.

"Dad!" Hermione shrieked, rushing forward and flinging her arms around her haggard-looking father. "Dad, you're alright! Are you alright?" Dad's expression was strangely blank; Hermione was unavoidably reminded of the look upon his face after she'd cast the charm that had wiped his memory. It was as if he'd forgotten what exactly he was supposed to feel.

"He's in a bit of a shock, I think," said Harry apologetically, and Hermione turned to him as though she had only just noticed his presence. She walked into his open arms then, though she turned her head so that she could keep her still stunned-looking father in her line of sight.

"What's happened, Harry? Where are Mum and Ron?" Hermione asked immediately as she surveyed his face when she pulled away a moment later. He didn't seem devastated; she took that as a good sign, but something was clearly off, judging by his pained expression. "Are they okay? Oh Merlin, please tell me they're okay."

"We got them all, the people behind it. Ron's perfectly fine, but your mum…well, she's alive, Hermione, that's important," Harry said, shifting his weight uncomfortably as he spoke.

Hermione gasped sharply as she reached out to grab her father's limp hand. "Harry, tell me what's happened," she demanded in a low voice, determined to swallow the lump in her throat and avoid the urge to scream and curl up into a tight ball.

"She was hit by a curse of some sort, we dunno what. She was unconscious, but alive. Ron's taken her to St. Mungo's; he should be back here any moment."

"We've got to go, then!" Hermione insisted anxiously, but Harry shook his head.

"Just wait for Ron. He's got clearance; he can get you into the DMLE entrance, and that wing's got a semi-private waiting room. It'll just be a moment, Hermione, I promise," he added, reaching out and touching her arm comfortingly.

Just then, the two stern-looking Aurors that had been waiting with Hermione called Harry over; he shot her a slightly regretful look, but she smiled reassuringly and indicated that he ought to go. She was quite certain her attempt at a smile had barely constituted a grimace, but she knew that there was nothing else to be done until Ron got back. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she turned to address her father, who had sunk into a nearby chair, his vacant expression growing more and more irritated by the second.

"Dad?" Hermione said tentatively. "You heard Harry, Dad, Mum's alive." She gulped and sniffed back tears before continuing. "The Healers at St. Mungo's are brilliant; she's in the best possible care."

"Right," Dad replied distractedly. "Right. Okay. Where are we?"

"The Ministry of Magic," Hermione answered, glad for a momentary distraction from her state of perpetual worry. "The Auror Office, to be exact; this is where Harry and Ron work. You may well be one of the only muggles to ever be in here, actually. Most don't know it's here, you see."

"Ah," Dad replied loftily. "And why, may I ask, am I not with my wounded wife?"

"Ron's taken her to the hospital," Hermione said slowly, resolving once again to hold herself together for his sake.

"How in the hell," Dad continued, gathering steam now, "did those bastards get into our home?"

"I don't know. The security was breached; they'll look into it. But they caught them, yeah?" Hermione chattered nervously, glancing up toward the door and willing Ron to appear.

"Not quite soon enough!" Dad retorted, his voice escalating. "That was…how do you even have spells that _do_…were we sending you to school to learn shit like _that_?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione pressed nervously. "What did they do to you, Dad?"

"How should I know? I'm a…what do you call it…a _muggle_, aren't I?" Dad shouted angrily.

Hermione didn't know how to respond, but she was saved from it; at that moment, the door opened once again. A small crew of Aurors, who had presumably been at the scene and just returned from apprehending the suspects, filed in, and Hermione let out a sigh of relief when she saw the redhead entering toward the back of the group.

"Ron!" she cried, rushing toward him and quite literally slamming into him. "Ron, you're alright! Where's mum, Ron? How is she? Oh, please, Ron, tell me _everything_ - Harry said she's alive; she's alive, right? What's happened?"

"She's okay. The Healers don't know much yet, but she's alive and barring any obscure complications, she's going to stay that way," Ron replied in his most soothing tone, rubbing her back as he spoke.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked anxiously, and she took several deep, calming breaths when he nodded emphatically. "You don't know what she was hit with?"

"No. We know about the Cruciatus beforehand, but-"

"The _what_?" Hermione felt the blood drain from her face. She hoped she had misunderstood something; this couldn't be happening, not to her parents, whom she'd sent to a different _bloody_ hemisphere to protect them from this very thing.

"Shit, had no one told you? I'm so sorry, Hermione," Ron said, drawing her closer to him. She could feel herself shaking in his arms; she felt as though she was about to come apart at the seams. "Look, we don't know the extent of it, but they weren't in there long…it wasn't like…well, you know."

Hermione did know; it wasn't like the Manor. But that was only a small comfort in the wake of the information she just received. "My dad," she said fiercely. "If it was used on him too, he'll need to be checked out as well!"

"Of course. As soon as we get to the hospital," Ron agreed immediately. "Just let me have a word with Price and Harris, and then we can be off, alright?"

"Okay," Hermione said, stepping back from his embrace reluctantly and returning to her father's side. "We'll be off in a minute, then," she told him nervously. "But you heard Ron; Mum's going to be alright. And we can get you checked out too, while we're there."

"What the hell for?" Dad asked, clearly alarmed.

"Well you were…you know…they hurt you, didn't they?" Hermione asked tentatively, unable to form the word "torture;" it was hard enough even to think it without becoming faint.

"I feel fine," Dad said shortly, though the shudder that ran through his entire body as he spoke said otherwise.

"Please, Dad, they'll just make certain there's no lasting damage," Hermione pleaded. "They know what they're doing, these Healers. It's their job to deal with magical injuries like spell damage."

"Spell damage?" Dad asked warily as he stood on slightly shaking legs.

"Yes, Dark spells especially will often leave a trace," Hermione replied matter-of-factly, subconsciously moving one of her hands to rest on her sternum, which bore, underneath her clothing, a scar from her encounter with Antonin Dolohov three years previously. It had been quite nasty-looking in the immediate aftermath, though it had now faded some so that it was barely visible in most kinds of light.

It occurred to Hermione now that she had never told her parents the full extent of her injury, and she felt guilt stab at the back of her mind. If she hadn't been trying so hard to protect them from the ugly aspects of her world, could she have better prepared them for the truth? She shook her head firmly; now was not the time for such thoughts. Instead, she offered her dad her hand, which she was pleased to see that he willingly took, and led him closer to Ron, who was in quite a tense discussion with Harry, Bryce, Isaac, the two senior Aurors, and a stern-looking woman Hermione vaguely recognized.

"…then I suppose there's nothing left to do but debrief," the grumpier of the two seniors was saying as Hermione came within earshot.

"Sir, I'm going to take Hermione and her father to see Mrs. Granger," Ron cut in firmly, addressing his superior with a confidence Hermione had never quite seen him exhibit before.

The elder man, who Hermione guessed from his demeanor was the one called Price, frowned. "Weasley, you know we need your statement."

"And you'll get it. I'll write it out for you while I'm waiting at St. Mungo's, if you want, but I'm going with them," Ron replied stubbornly, a hint of a threat in his tone.

Price gave a heavy sigh. "For Merlin's _fucking _sake, Weasley, you're not even technically meant to be _on_ this case! You can't pick and choose when you want to participate, and you can't skive off when it suits you!"

"Bullshit. You'd need somebody standing watch at the hospital anyway. Whether the wedding's happened yet or not, Hermione's my _fucking_ wife, and I'm not leaving her!" Ron replied in what was little more than a growl.

"I'll go collect his statement as soon as I've given my own," Harry volunteered quietly, though there was nothing timid about the way he said it.

"Fine," the other senior Auror interjected shortly. "He's right, Price, we'd have sent somebody with the family to St. Mungo's regardless."

"Okay," Price said tersely. "But watch your tone with me, Weasley. I don't care who you are; I'm still your superior."

"Sorted," Ron nearly spat, and without another word, he turned his back on the others to meet Hermione and her father. "Let's go, then. There's an apparition point just outside."

"Harry apparated you here, didn't he, Dad?" Hermione asked as they left the office, ignoring the murmuring of the others in their wake.

"Is that what that's called? We're doing it _again_?"

"It's the fastest way to get where we're going," Ron replied matter-of-factly, interlocking his hand with Hermione's free one as they walked through the corridors of the Ministry at a rapid pace. "Fastest way to get to your wife, Mr. Granger."

"You won't get in trouble, will you?" Hermione fretted, guilt once again creeping up in the back of her mind.

"Nah," Ron answered shortly. "Price is an arse, yeah, but the rest of them understand. It's different when it's personal; the rules are a bit bendy. That reprimand was the worst I'll get."

A moment later, they'd reached the Apparition point, and Ron traded places with Hermione so that he could hold onto both of their hands. "I _have_ been practicing side-along, a bit," he said nervously.

"You'll be fine," Hermione said reassuringly. Ron nodded, and a moment later, they had turned on the spot. When they resurfaced completely in-tact at St. Mungo's DMLE entrance, Dad looked positively faint. Hermione moved to grasp his hand again as they entered. Ron seemed to know the Healer that had come to their aid, and they were talking in low voices as the group moved through the hallway toward a waiting room.

"You are Peter and Hermione Granger, then?" the Healer addressed them abruptly when the group reached their destination. Upon Hermione's nod, he continued. "Karen Granger is in stable condition now. We're doing the tests to determine exactly which curse was used against her so that we may treat her properly, but she's not in any immediate danger. We're optimistic that she's going to be completely alright. What kind of a recovery process will be involved, we don't know yet, especially given the use of the Cruciatus Curse."

"The curse was used on my dad, too," Hermione interjected.

"Alright," the Healer, whose nametag read Ives, said calmly. "Then if you will follow me, Peter, I can check you over to make sure you're alright. It'll only be a moment or two, and then I'll have you back to your daughter."

"Go on, Dad," Hermione urged, smiling encouragingly in an effort to wipe the distrustful expression off his face. With a noncommittal nod, Dad followed Healer Ives down the hallway a bit further, and Hermione followed Ron into the empty waiting room, where they took a seat on an overly squashy sofa. Ron immediately wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders as she sat down and burrowed close to his side.

"Why did this happen?" she asked softly as they made themselves as comfortable as possible. Tears were pricking in the corners of her eyelids now for the first time since Harry and Dad had arrived in the Auror's Office; this was the first chance she had to truly contemplate what had happened.

"It was Lestrange. Rodolphus," Ron informed her quietly. "But I can only tell you as much since it's your immediate family. Anyway, the three women were working for him, as were a couple other blokes around our age. Goyle, too. They overpowered the man who was keeping watch at your parents' house, and since they already had an idea of where it was, they were able to get in. I reckon we'll have to place a proper Fidelius Charm on the place now whether your parents like it or not, just to be safe. We think Lestrange was operating alone, but I'm sure as hell not taking any chances."

"We ought to have done it before," Hermione said with a sniff. "I just…I thought the protective charms would be enough."

"We all did," Ron replied fiercely. "It's sure as hell not your fault, so don't talk like that."

"They were…they were _hurt_, Ron. Like…like I was hurt," Hermione whimpered helplessly.

"I know," Ron gulped, his expression somber. "I…when I heard…fuck, it took me back to that bloody Manor, Hermione. I mean…Merlin, it's good we got there when we did."

Hermione nodded; she could feel the tears beginning to stream down her face now. "Why did this happen?" she repeated desperately, but Ron only shook his head. There was no good reason for why the innocent had to suffer at the whims of the sick-minded and cruel, and there never would be.

A moment later, a disgruntled Dad re-entered the room, followed closely by Healer Ives. "There was no apparent lasting damage," he informed them pleasantly as Dad nearly flung himself into one of the wicker chairs nearest Ron and Hermione. "We're optimistic that the same will be true for Karen, though we won't know more until we've finished with the analytics. I'll be back to update you as soon as we've made progress."

"Thank you," Hermione said gratefully, using the hand that wasn't clenched in Ron's to wipe away the tears on her cheeks.

"We're alright, then," Ron told her comfortingly, squeezing her hand in his and rubbing her shoulders with the other. "Everything's going to be okay."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, sniffing loudly. "Yes, everything will be okay. Thank Merlin; this could have been so much worse."

"The bastards were pathetic," Ron said emphatically. "Scary as hell for a bit, yeah, but that's all they ever had going for them."

"That's _all_?" Dad interrupted incredulously, speaking more loudly than he had since he'd arrived in the Auror office. "It sure as hell didn't feel pathetic at the time!"

"That's not what he meant, Dad," Hermione said wearily. "He only meant that it could have gone much, much worse than it did."

"How?" Dad demanded. "We didn't get off scot-free, did we? Your _mother_, Hermione, is lying in a hospital bed somewhere, and we haven't got a clue what's happened to her!"

"Don't you think I know that?" Hermione snapped. "But I've spent the past several hours scared out of my mind, so we've got to focus on the good. She's _alive_, and no matter what kind of recovery she's got ahead, we can have a go at it together!"

"Somehow that doesn't quite ease my mind!" Dad retorted. "When we sent you to that school of yours, we had no idea-"

"This is _Dark_ magic, Dad!" Hermione interjected. "I don't use these kinds of spells; none of us do, we use defensive spells-"

"You know how to literally wipe a man's memory, and you've done it!" Dad pointed out angrily. "That's not exactly friendly fire, Hermione-"

"I did it to protect you!" Hermione very nearly screamed, her grip now vice-like on Ron's hand. "I did it to protect you from things like this!"

"And if we'd never let you go, there wouldn't have ever _been_ this sort of thing-"

"There could have been! Voldemort and his followers went after muggles, Dad; even if I weren't a witch…you saw, about that bridge collapse three years ago! It had nothing to do with structural integrity," Hermione retorted. "I sent you away from Britain so that you would be safe."

"And a fat load of good it did, in the end," Dad spat, and Hermione felt her heart sink beneath the weight of the guilt that felt as though it were literally filling her to the brim.

"Listen, Mr. Granger," Ron said fiercely, gripping Hermione's hand back just as hard as she was, "Hermione did the best she could, which is a hell of a lot better than the rest of us could have done. Nobody wanted this to happen, and it's nobody's fault but the bastards who did it to you! But it's over now, it's done, we've got them, and everything's going to be-"

"Do _NOT_ tell me that everything's going to be okay! Do _NOT_ tell me that it could have been worse!" Dad roared, standing up now and beginning to pace back and forth - or rather, stomp loudly as he shouted. "My _wife_, Hermione's _mother_, was knocked out by some bloody spell, after we'd been subjected to…" he broke off with a shudder, but then continued as though he hadn't: "And this was all because some _wizards_ broke into our home and tried to force us into revealing information about our daughter! So don't go telling me how much worse-"

"But it could have been!" Ron shouted angrily, dropping Hermione's hand and standing up to face Dad. "You could have been tortured to within an inch of your bloody life, til you didn't know who you _were_ anymore; fucking hell, one curse and you could have been DEAD! So excuse us for trying to find the hope in a bloody terrible situation, Mr. Granger, but we have seen so, so much worse; hell, we've _lived_ it! Try this: for once in your fucking life, listen to your daughter, because she _knows_ what you've gone through, probably better than you do!"

"Am I meant to find comfort in the fact that my daughter was a part of some sort of bloody war?" Dad shot back mockingly.

Ron laughed humorlessly. "A part of it? Is that all you think? Merlin, if you'd just shut up and listen for once, you'd know how fucking brave she is! Hermione is one of the strongest people I've ever known, and the fact that you refuse to see that won't stop it from being true!"

Dad sputtered for a moment before turning to face Hermione. "What does he mean by this?" he demanded. "What does he mean, you've lived it?"

"Just what it sounds," Hermione replied, brushing away her tears once again. "That's why I sent you away; I had to help Harry, and I knew it was going to be dangerous. It was people like Lestrange that we were fighting against, but…some of them were quite a bit nastier, you see."

"Quite a bit nastier?" Ron repeated incredulously. "Don't sugarcoat it, Hermione, he needs to hear it! How the hell else is he going to understand?"

Hermione shot Ron a pleading look, but he just raised his eyebrows expectantly. "I'm sure we don't need to go over the details," she said desperately. Ron's eyes softened a bit, and he returned to sit next to her on the sofa and wrapped an arm around her shoulders once again.

"There's no use keeping it from them anymore," Ron told her gently. "Not after what they've been through today; they ought to understand the truth of it!"

Hermione nodded; she knew he was right, but that didn't make the matter at hand any less difficult. "Why don't you sit down, Dad?" she said hesitantly.

He obliged, but the anger did not dissipate from his face. "What the hell is this about?" he demanded.

"I've told you that Ron and I, we needed to help Harry to get rid of Voldemort," Hermione began slowly, looking over to Ron for reassurance. He grimaced in what was meant to be an encouraging smile and squeezed her shoulders. She drew a deep breath before continuing: "And I told you, Voldemort was taking over our world. He hated muggles; he hated muggleborns, too, like myself, and he hated people like Ron as well - pureblood wizards, but sympathetic toward muggles and muggleborns. And like I've told you, we were even bigger targets because we were helping Harry. It was dangerous."

"I know," Dad said automatically, his voice thankfully much lower than it had been, the creases on his forehead becoming more pronounced. "You explained this to us last year; that's why you felt you _had_ to send us away."

"Because if I hadn't, you could have been t-tortured or killed," Hermione replied firmly. "The Cruciatus Curse…that's the one they used on you today. When I sent you away, Voldemort had taken over our Ministry. If you had been at home, and somebody had come to use that curse on you, there wouldn't have _been_ any Aurors to come in and stop them. It…it would have just…kept going," she finished, shaking as silent tears continued to slide from her eyes. Ron squeezed her tightly once again; she turned to face him, and was heartbroken to see that his eyes were wet as well.

"That's not to say that what happened to you was nothing," Hermione continued quickly, when she saw that Dad was about to retort, "but when we say it could have been worse…we're not lying, Dad, we've _seen_ worse, with our own eyes! Our friend Neville…his parents were tortured into _insanity._ They've got permanent beds in a closed ward of this very hospital. It almost makes Harry's parents seem _lucky_, doesn't it, to have been killed outright? Voldemort and his followers…most of them didn't know mercy. They wouldn't…they wouldn't stop."

Taking a deep breath, Hermione shifted so that she could brush the hair from the side of her neck, thus revealing the scar left by Bellatrix Lestrange nearly a year and a half previously. Dad's eyes widened, but Hermione kept going. Now that she had started, she found it easier to trudge through her discomfort.

"I never told you and Mum just how dangerous it was," she admitted. "I didn't want you to worry. I didn't want you to try to pull me from the magical world, because it's where I _belong_. We…Ron and I, and so many others, too…we chose to help Harry, we have done since we were twelve years old, and that always meant we'd be in the thick of it all. And we…we didn't come out of it unscathed."

"You're just a child," Dad cut in then, speaking at last. "You're so young, Hermione, why did you have to-"

"Because it's my world!" Hermione cried desperately. "I'm a witch, Dad! I know you've never quite understood it all, but that's how it is! Why does anybody fight for anything? I wanted to protect myself, and my friends, and _you_, my family! We had to keep people like Voldemort, if you can even call them people, from destroying everything we hold dear! That's _war_, and it's real. We lost people we care about, and we were scarred ourselves." She saw Dad's eyes flicker once again to the mark on her neck as he audibly gulped.

"And where did that come from?" he asked, clearly dreading the answer.

Hermione sighed heavily, and she heard Ron's breath catch. "Bellatrix Lestrange was one of the nastier ones," she said simply.

"What does that mean?" Dad demanded, his face now incredibly pale.

"What do you think it means?" Ron shot back. Hermione could feel his body tremor with suppressed rage. "Think of the man in your sitting room today, and imagine somebody with twice the cruelty, somebody with _no_ capacity for remorse!"

"And you fought…but what exactly…?"

"Suffice it to say I know _plenty_ about the Cruciatus Curse," Hermione said in little more than a whisper. "I'm going to go to the loo."

"Hermione, let me-"

"I just need a bit of air. I'll be right back," Hermione said, pressing a quick kiss to Ron's cheek in the hopes of wiping the worried expression off his face. And then she crossed the room and was gone, leaving Ron and Mr. Granger to his own devices.

There was a short, uncomfortable silence, but Mr. Granger was the first to speak. "She…she was tortured?" he asked quietly, nearly disbelievingly.

Ron nodded once, not quite trusting himself to speak as terribly vivid memories of that horrible evening began to seep through the corner of his mind in which he'd tried to quarantine them during his waking hours.

"But why?" Mr. Granger asked. He looked devastated - heartbroken. Ron felt distinctly more uncomfortable.

"For information," Ron answered shortly. "Or because Bellatrix Lestrange was a sick fuck. Take your pick."

"Were you…"

"Yeah, I was there," Ron replied. "Stuck in the fucking cellar. I had to listen-" he broke off and sunk his head into his hands as the memory of Hermione's screams began to suffocate him. "I don't know how long it went on," he said at last, "but she was not in a good way when we finally got to her. She…I was scared out of my mind. I thought…I thought…"

Both men were quiet for some time, each lost in their own thoughts. Ron took several deep breaths as he attempted to recollect himself. When he finally looked up again, Mr. Granger appeared deeply disturbed.

"I - I don't know what to say," he said slowly. "I just…I didn't quite realize…"

"You don't need to say anything," Ron interrupted. "Just…you've just got to understand that what we went through, it wasn't a story. It wasn't like…like when you read a history book, and you know that back in whatever century, so-and-so was in a war with so-and-so because of this-and-that. And yeah, that's all it _will_ be, someday, but for us…it was fucking _real_. It was our lives, for years and years, and…we were just kids, you know, but after something like that…it changes you. Suddenly, you're just…you're not who you were. You're not a kid anymore, you're the furthest thing from a kid, and yeah, we had to grow up far too quickly, but there's no going back from it now. We've just…we've had to move on, as best we can, and that's what Hermione's trying to do. She's not the little girl you remember her as anymore, she's something…more. She's…fuck, she's amazing, and brilliant, and _brave_ - she's a warrior, and I just…I guess it's hard for you to see it for what it is," he finished awkwardly, gesturing noncommittally.

Mr. Granger was saved from having to give a response by Hermione's return. Her eyes were dry now, but they were very red. She looked apprehensively between them, and was clearly relieved to see that neither looked too terribly angry with the other. She returned to her seat next to Ron, and the group was quiet for some time, but once again, it was Mr. Granger who broke the silence.

"I thought…back when we sent you to Hogwarts, Hermione, I thought that maybe, we'd be giving you a better life. Away from all the terrible things that happen in our world, you know. I guess I thought that maybe…magic was supposed to fix those sorts of things, and I never realized…not until I found myself in Australia, I never really realized…" he trailed off uncertainly.

"I don't think there's a place on Earth that hasn't got the bad things," Hermione replied quietly. "There are always going to be people that are just…just psychopaths, or people that make the wrong choices, or whatever else. It's…just because magic isn't perfect doesn't mean it's something you ought to be afraid of. You never know, Dad, what's going to happen, but that doesn't mean you ought to withdraw from the world."

Mr. Granger nodded. "I…I'm sorry, Hermione. I just, I didn't understand, and I still don't. It's-it's just hard to come to terms with the fact that I probably never will."

Hermione reached and grasped her father's hand. "I just need you to try. That's all I ever needed."

"Okay," Mr. Granger said, taking a deep breath. "Okay."

"Things will be alright," Ron reassured them, wrapping his arms around Hermione again. They nodded, and the group fell into silence yet again - though this time, it was less tense than before. After about five minutes, Harry showed up; Ginny, Ron's dad, and Percy in his wake.

"You've got to write out your statement, Ron," Harry told him apologetically, handing him a roll of parchment and a self-inking quill as each of the Weasleys greeted Mr. Granger. "Is everything alright?"

"No big news," Hermione said shortly. "But they think she's going to be okay."

"Good," Harry said, reaching out to pat her shoulder as Ginny sat by her side and grabbed her hand.

"We heard what had happened while we were on our way out for the day," Dad said quietly to Ron as he began to scrawl out a quick statement of what had happened at the Grangers' -it seemed like a lifetime ago, now. "Thought we'd drop by and make sure you were alright before heading home. Molly will want to hear it straight from us."

"Tell Mum not to worry," Ron told him. "Mrs. Granger's going to recover; we just don't know what that'll entail."

"Good," Dad said. "She'll want you to come round, you know."

"Tell her we'll try to make it tomorrow," Ron replied with a small smile. "If not, we'll owl."

"Okay. We'll leave you to it, then," Dad said, gripping Ron's shoulder firmly before collecting Percy, who had been overwhelming Hermione with a long explanation of the legal ramifications of the case - which she may have been interested in, had the circumstances not been as they were - and leaving the waiting room. Harry and Ginny stayed; Ginny continued to talk quietly to Hermione, and Harry chose the armchair nearest to the sofa as he watched Ron scribbling his statement as quickly as possible.

"We're not needed again til Sunday," Harry informed Ron. "Everyone's working a bit faster, given the circumstances, and we should have most of the missing pieces to put together by then, before we send the thing off to the DMLE's legal office by Friday."

"It'll be a fantastic week, then," Ron deadpanned. "They'll put them straight in high-security cells this time, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry confirmed. "After the shit they pulled, nobody's taking any chances. Hermione's dad alright?"

"Yeah," Ron repeated distractedly, quickly finishing up the last few sentences of his statement and handing it off to Harry. "Reckon mine's identical to yours?"

"Probably," Harry replied on a half a laugh. "Listen: Ginny and I thought we'd stay for a bit, if you want."

"Of course," Ron said, shooting a grateful grin in Harry's direction.

But their stay in the waiting room turned out to be much longer than they'd anticipated. Eventually, the minutes turned into hours, and Hermione had dozed off on Ron's shoulder, still grasping Ginny's hand. Harry was on perhaps his twentieth read-through of Ron's statement, simply for something to do, and Mr. Granger was simply gazing off into space, clearly lost in thought. Finally, Healer Ives returned, a serious expression on his face, and Ron gently shook Hermione awake.

"Mrs. Granger is still in stable condition," he began. "The curse that struck her wasn't widely known; that's what caused the delay. But we managed to determine its effects, and treated them appropriately. She suffered mainly internal injuries - we can get into the details of it later; it'll be easier once we've got the report in front of us. We're guessing the spell itself wasn't cast properly, but it most closely resembled a particularly nasty curse that was the signature of one Antonin Dolohov."

Hermione audibly gasped, and brought a hand to her ribs. "Will she be alright?" she asked breathlessly.

"Perfectly so. It would have been much worse, but it was a weakened version of the curse. She'll have to take potions for several weeks to heal her internal injuries, but she will be just fine," Healer Ives said with a tight-lipped smile. "She's actually just come to; I'm allowed to send in only the family to see her for the time being."

"That's the three of us, then," Mr. Granger said automatically. "Myself, my daughter and my...my son-in-law."

Hermione gave an audible sob; standing up, she flung herself into her father's arms, and the two clung to each other tightly, murmuring words only they could hear.

"We'll be off, then," Ginny said, leaning over to give Ron a one-armed hug. "We'll let Mum and Dad know about the developments."

"Thanks, Gin," Ron said, returning her embrace briefly. "We'll see you soon, I reckon."

Harry and Ginny each patted Hermione on the back - she still hadn't let go of her dad - and left the waiting room, passing an amused Healer Ives. "Whenever you're ready," the Healer said.

Hermione pulled back and helped her father to his feet; with her other hand, she reached for Ron, and the three of them followed Healer Ives down the hallway toward Mrs. Granger's room. They filed into it one after the other; the room was a bit bigger than average, given its place in the DMLE section of the hospital, but there was scarcely room for them to fit comfortably.

Mrs. Granger was sitting upright on the bed; she was pale, and looked very small in the oversized hospital gown, but there was a thin smile on her face. Hermione let out another sob and ran to embrace her mother; Mr. Granger followed to kiss his wife, and Ron stayed back respectfully to give them a moment for themselves.

"I really am alright," Mrs. Granger said several minutes later, once her family had retreated and allowed her some breathing room. "And it's all thanks to Ron, I understand."

"Well, I brought you here," Ron replied uncomfortably. "That's my job, but it's the Healers here that have set you right."

"Nevertheless, thank you," Mrs. Granger said sincerely. "I…I don't think I ever realized, just how dangerous it could be, and I'm grateful that your department was so quick to our rescue."

"We've got quite a bit to talk about, Mum," Hermione said quietly, looking between her parents anxiously.

"Of course we have," Mrs. Granger replied, "but it can wait. They say I'll likely be here all day tomorrow, just so they can make sure there aren't any complications. We'll find the time to have a proper chat then. I'm a bit tired and sore tonight, to be honest."

Hermione nodded, and Mr. Granger actually smiled a little. "Why don't you and Ron head back home, Hermione?" he asked pleasantly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Come back tomorrow morning."

"Okay," Hermione replied reluctantly, leaning in and hugging her mum one more time. "I'm so happy you're okay. I love you both," she murmured, just loud enough that Ron could hear it.

"Of course. And we love you," Mrs. Granger smiled. "And Ron, come over here!"

Ron grinned as he moved to embrace his future mother-in-law lightly. "I can talk to the Healers, so that Mr. Granger can stay with you as long as he likes," he offered.

"That'd be wonderful, thank you," Mrs. Granger beamed.

"Thank you, Ron," Mr. Granger added gruffly, offering a hand. Ron shook it firmly and nodded - something had shifted between them, and he could sense Mr. Granger had given him something he hadn't quite trusted him with before. If he wasn't mistaken, it felt an awful lot like respect.

Hermione couldn't help but embrace each of her parents once more, and then, after Ron informed Healer Ives under no uncertain circumstances that Mr. Granger was not to be bothered to leave, they made their way to the fireplaces on the first floor so that they could Floo home. Upon entering their flat, Ron wordlessly crossed the room to the refrigerator; he withdrew a bag of leftover take-away and performed a quick heating charm on it. Then, they retreated to their bedroom, too tired to do much but strip off their outerwear, and crawled underneath their duvet, passing the bag of take-away between them.

"Well, that was a hell of a day," Ron observed as he stuffed his mouth full of reheated chicken alfredo.

"I imagine tomorrow will be, too," Hermione replied with a sigh. "I just…I wish this had never happened."

"There's a lot of things I wish had never happened," Ron said wisely. "But we can't change it, can we? We've just got to hope the outlook is good."

"I think it is," Hermione said, turning toward him with a wry smile. "Mum's okay. And Dad…he called you his _son-in-law_."

"He did, didn't he?" Ron grinned.

"What did you say to him?" Hermione asked curiously. "When I was in the loo, I mean."

"Nothing much," Ron shrugged. "I just…I think he's sort of realized, y'know, that we aren't kids anymore."

"I should have told them everything," Hermione sighed. "About the war, and what we went through…I don't know how I expected them to understand when I hadn't really explained it."

"You were trying to protect them," Ron said fairly.

"They wanted to protect me, too," Hermione replied. "But that's sort of the problem, isn't it? At some point we had to own up to the fact that bad things happen, and it's no good trying to pretend to one another that they don't, or that they aren't as bad as they really are."

Ron nodded sympathetically. "So you'll have a chat about it all tomorrow, yeah? I reckon your dad'll fill your mum in, but…it'll all be out in the open now."

"You'll come with, won't you?" Hermione asked, taking a dainty bite from his container of food, apparently disenchanted with her Caesar salad.

"If you want me there, yeah, of course," Ron replied. "And we can go to the Burrow afterward; I think we could use a home-cooked meal."

Hermione smiled as she took one last bite and threw her plastic fork into the bag. "Everything's going to be okay," she said with a great sigh of relief.

"Perfectly okay," Ron repeated, copying her actions and then vanishing the bag. "Let's try to get some sleep, yeah?"

"Okay," Hermione replied, burying herself further under the covers and reaching for Ron, who tucked her into his embrace automatically. "Love you."

"Love you, too," Ron answered, leaning down and kissing her softly on the mouth before settling into position. Hermione had been right earlier - no one ever knew what was coming, no matter which world one lived in. But if one thing was for certain, it was that no matter what hexes or jinxes life threw at them, they could have a good go at it if they leaned on one another for support.

* * *

A/N: So there's that. This chapter and the last were the climax of the fic; the next chapter will tie up most loose ends and the last will be significantly more fluffy than the rest of it has been! ;) Thank you for reading, and feel free to let me know what you think!


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I AM SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG. I've been very busy lately between a trip to Chicago two weeks ago (during which I saw Julia Albain's production of "The Last Days of Judas Iscariot" which featured several Starkids - it was TOTALLY AWESOME) and then moving back to school last week. But here it is, the penultimate chapter of TMH - alternately titled "The Loose Ends Chapter." Thank you so much to everybody who has read, reviewed, favorited, or followed this story thus far. I love you like Ron and Hermione love each other.

Disclaimer: Unless JKR currently lives in a student apartment with possible mold growing in the closet, I am not she.

* * *

Though he preferred to spend Saturdays snuggled up in bed with his fiancée, Ron split his time the day after the attack at the Grangers' between the small meeting room in the Auror Office and Mrs. Granger's room at St. Mungo's. Neither location offered a particularly fun time, but as much as he loved his fiancée, he had to admit the office was a marginally more comforting place to be. Ron had spent nearly two hours in the morning drowning in emotionally charged conversations and tears shed by Hermione's family.

The strangest part of it all was that they hadn't seemed to say much of anything, though both sides repeated apologies nearly twenty times over for various wrongdoing. Though he would never admit it out loud, it seemed to Ron that none of it really mattered in the grand scheme of things, especially in light of all that had happened, and considering the overwhelming amount of forgiveness each party had expressed toward the others. Although, when Ron put his mind to it, he supposed that he had continued to apologize for his mistakes long after Harry and Hermione had told him all was forgiven and forgotten.

Regardless, it was not a fun morning, nor did it seem to be a very progressive one. When Ron ducked out at eleven to make his way to the office, he kissed Hermione quickly on the cheek and hoped vaguely that they would be able to talk more freely in his absence. As much as he could sense that Mr. and Mrs. Granger really had accepted him and his place in their daughter's life, the majority of what needed to be discussed was very much between Hermione and her parents, and he couldn't help but feel as though he was intruding.

However, the office didn't provide much in the way of respite. Ron found himself spending the majority of the afternoon filling out various paperwork with Harry while Isaac and Bryce were questioning Lestrange and the others in Azkaban. It was after three when the two senior Aurors returned at last to discuss what they'd discovered with Harry and Ron.

"Well, they're locked up in high-security cells this time," Isaac said almost immediately, and Ron instantly felt himself relax a bit.

"How did they manage to get out the first time, anyway?" Harry demanded.

Bryce shrugged. "They won't tell us. We've got a guess, though; the low-security area isn't exactly that tricky, if you're dead-set on getting out. Lestrange had probably briefed them all beforehand, just in case they did get caught."

"Why the hell have we got low-security cells in the first place?" Harry asked, fuming. "What's the point, when we've already got the DMLE holding cells here for misdemeanors and the like?"

"Add it to the list of things we ought to change once the old blighters retire," Bryce declared. "Or go bother them about it now if you like, but it'll be a bit of a long process."

"Believe me, they'll be hearing about it," Harry muttered under his breath.

"And we'll have Hermione on our side," Ron added on half a laugh. "She's a bit hard to ignore, see."

"At any rate, they aren't getting out this time," Isaac continued. "The security's much tighter now."

"They did let slip how it was they were communicating," Bryce added, "and it's got us another arrest. Shopkeeper in Knockturn Alley let them leave messages for one another with him so they wouldn't have to use owl post."

"So he'll be charged with accessory to a violent crime," Isaac finished. "He probably won't have to do time like the others, but the bloke was scared shitless when we apprehended him."

"How much time do you reckon they'll have to do?" Ron asked.

"Dunno. Hard to say until the legal department's looked into it, but I'm guessing Lestrange will be there for a very long time. Probably for life, given his past. The others might get shorter sentences, but it's really hard to say," Isaac explained. "Though to be honest, I find it hard to believe the teenagers would have done any of it without Lestrange at the helm."

"But it was probably the younger ones that chose the victims," Harry pointed out.

"Very true," Bryce acknowledged. "It's not likely any of those victims would have been chosen without your schoolmates, except perhaps Granger."

"I kind of figured attacking Hermione was a strategic move on their part," Harry said dejectedly.

"Not like it's your fault, mate," Ron offered reassuringly. "We've made our choices, and we're sticking to them, even if they do include a skinny git like yourself."

"Still, it was her connection to me that led to the attack," Harry insisted, though he shot a mildly grateful look in Ron's direction.

"Probably true," Isaac acknowledged. "And if I understand correctly, the other three weren't _only_ your classmates."

"They were all in Dumbledore's Army, yeah," Ron replied. "Defense club we formed back in our fifth year when that Umbridge bat was teaching us. Most of us fought in the battle," he added in response to Bryce's questioning look.

"But is there any insight to a motive? Other than trying to get to me, that is," Harry asked.

"Nothing but pureblood mania, if you ask me," Bryce offered. "It's quite pathetic, isn't it? Scare tactics were all it was in the end, thankfully, and I dunno that they'd have been capable of much else."

"But what would they have to gain from this?" Harry pressed.

"They were Death Eaters, weren't they? It's not like they were exactly right in the head," Ron pointed out.

"It's nothing new, really," Isaac added. "People will do almost anything to promote what they believe in, regardless of how mental it may be. Even wizards back in Merlin's day would do it, believe it or not, and that had to do with the treatment of muggles as well."

"Oh yeah, Hermione's mentioned that," Ron supplied, grinning fondly as he thought back to a lecture she'd given him back in the spring of their sixth year. Granted, the form-fitting jumper she'd been wearing at the time had led him to focus on certain aspects of her physique instead, but some of what she'd said had stuck. "It was before the Statute of Secrecy, see, and before all that witch-hunting nonsense, so muggle-supporters would help them out, y'know, and the muggles thought they were like miracle workers."

"But those who hated Muggles would go to extreme lengths to destroy their livelihoods, if not have them killed," Isaac finished. "It's an age-old thing, isn't it? It's just the context that's changed."

"It's hard work, isn't it? Trying to do this 'brave new world' bit?" Bryce remarked.

Harry and Ron both snorted humorlessly. "Marginally better than trying to do the 'hunting down the darkest wizard in history' bit, I guess," Harry quipped.

"Yeah, well, change doesn't come easy," Isaac said. "And add 'slimming down on paperwork' to the list of things to work at once you're in charge of this place, eh Potter?"

Harry immediately turned nearly as red as a sunburnt Ron. "But why does everyone-"

"Because it's gonna happen," Ron interrupted. "And hey, maybe if we harp on Price and the rest long enough, they'll take a hint and retire."

"At least Robards is alright, yeah?" Bryce pointed out. "But you're right, Weasley, it'll be people like the two of you that'll be up in management next."

"Well, Harry, yeah-" Ron began.

"You're on a first name basis with the Minister of Magic," Isaac interrupted in a voice that was almost bored. "And anyway, all the two of you ever really needed was a bit of training. You've already got more experience than the majority of the rest of us do."

"And neither of you are bogged down by protocols or bureaucracy bullshit yet," Bryce chuckled. "Give it another five years or so and we'll be reporting to you, mark my words."

"But til then, more paperwork!" Isaac remarked in a falsely cheery voice. Ron chanced a glance at Harry and was unsurprised to see that he was equally relieved by the distraction from the elder men's praise. A part of him did know that due to their…_unique_ credentials, it would likely fall to them to make the changes necessary within the department and the Ministry as a whole, but he really was beginning to understand why Harry so hated being the center of attention. It truly was uncomfortable to be recognized by others for things they honestly knew nothing about. But the moment passed, and the four men spent the rest of the afternoon prepping the paperwork to keep the bastards in Azkaban for good.

_-000-_

"And that's what happened," Hermione finished lamely, her voice tired after nearly three hours of speaking. After Ron had left for the office, the repeated apologies had faded and she had been left in near silence with her parents. Wanting to avoid discussing their ordeal from the day before at all costs, Hermione had immediately launched into a explanation of Voldemort, Death Eaters, and horcruxes. She tried to be as thorough as possible without going into too much detail, a task which proved to be difficult at best, but Mum and Dad listened as she rambled, nodding along as though they understood.

"So the man from yesterday _was_ one of the…Death Eaters, then?" Mum asked after a brief silence, adjusting one of her pillows behind her. She was sat up in her hospital bed, looking much better than she had the night before. The Healers had decided to keep her just one more night to be sure everything was in the right order, but she appeared to be recovering well by Hermione's estimate.

"Yes, he was. He faked his own death after the battle," Hermione repeated simply. "But he was one of the last ones out there; you needn't be afraid. The Ministry is reinforcing the protective charms around your house this afternoon, once they've finished with it as a crime scene, of course."

"But how did they get in yesterday?" Dad interjected, frowning.

"I think they were able to force the Auror who was watching the house into leading them straight to it. But we're going to put a version of the Fidelius Charm on it this time, so things like that can't happen again," Hermione explained. "We should have done earlier, but I don't think anybody really…we didn't think it would go as far as it did. We're sorry."

Dad rubbed at his face before replying. "I just can't believe you've had to deal with…with all of this. You're still a teenager, love."

"I know. It's not really fair, of course, but it is what it is," Hermione said wearily.

"I realize that now," Dad said carefully. "Ron and I had a bit of a chat about it yesterday, you see."

"Yes, he mentioned," Hermione replied. "And I'm glad the two of you are able to see eye to eye."

"Well, he loves you very much; we've got that in common," Dad replied with a small smile.

Mum beamed at him before she turned to face Hermione. "I don't think either of us realized, dear, just how much you and Ron had been through together. Most couples your age haven't had to face much more than a bit of jealousy here and there."

"Well, we've had our fair share of that as well," Hermione replied with a bit of a laugh. "But none of it seems to matter much anymore, considering everything else."

"Well, you're lucky for it. Not everyone meets the love of their life so soon," Mum said pleasantly.

"But that doesn't mean you can't," Dad added with a strained smile, though Hermione was pleased to see the sincerity in his eyes.

"Thank you, honestly. It means so much to me that you're supporting us," Hermione told them, reaching out to grip each of their hands firmly.

"Well, it's like your mum said. I just needed a bit of time to realize our little girl was part of an 'us' now," Dad replied, managing to look her directly in the eye as he spoke. Hermione's heart positively soared.

"And I think we all needed time to figure out how to be part of each others' lives properly again," Mum added, reaching for her husband's hand so that the family formed a sort of triangle. "But now, we move forward."

Dad hesitated. "Hermione, love, there's just one more thing - Ron said you'd been…_hurt_," he finished delicately, looking in her direction but not quite meeting her eyes this time.

Hermione took a deep breath in an attempt to ease the desperation from her voice: "Do you really think we _have_ to-"

"We've _all _got to be open with one another, love," Mum insisted firmly. "That includes you."

"Well, Ron was right. He was there, after all," Hermione said in an almost clinical tone, frowning down at her lap and hoping fruitlessly that avoiding the emotion behind the words would keep the images from springing up in her mind. If she tried to stick to the objective facts, she could pretend that it had been somebody else writhing on the floor of the Malfoy Manor, victim of both the Cruciatus Curse and of Bellatrix's knife. But the moment she began to relive it, she was sure she wouldn't be able to handle it.

"They did…_that_ to you?" Mum asked softly, squeezing her hand. Hermione didn't need to look up to know that her mother's eyes were swimming with tears.

"Yes, once. The woman who cursed me is gone now; Ron's mum was the one who saw to it," Hermione replied shortly.

"Was…was the cut on your neck…?" Dad trailed off uncertainly.

"Same incident," Hermione replied. "It happened a year and a half ago, but the blade was cursed. It won't ever heal fully, but it's hard to see it now. Ron's sister-in-law helped patch me up, and he was there for me during my recovery."

She shifted her hair off of her shoulder in response to her mother's questioning look; Mum gasped audibly and squeezed her hand tighter.

"It was war," Hermione continued simply, "and I'm sorry I didn't tell you everything about it, but it's over now, and I want nothing more than to try to move on."

She did not mention that part of the reason she'd kept so much from them was that she'd got the support she needed in the aftermath of the war from Ron, Harry, and the rest of the Weasleys. She hadn't felt the need to turn to her parents with her troubles at the time. But instead of protecting them as she'd meant to, she'd almost cut them out of a substantial part of her life. She knew she was wrong now, and she could admit it, but she also knew that the underlying reasons would hurt them deeply. Some things, she supposed, were meant to be left unsaid.

"We can move on together, yes?" Mum said brightly. "Once I'm out of this bloody hospital bed, anyway. It's almost a comfort to know even magic can't make these places any better."

Dad offered his wife a grin as he added, "And we can start by making Ron a real member of this family."

Hermione squeezed her parents' hands again. "Thank you," she repeated. "I love you both."

"And we love you," Dad replied in the warmest tone Hermione had heard him use in years.

An awkward tap came from the direction of the door. "Finished the day's paperwork," Ron said sheepishly by way of greeting. His tall frame took up almost the entire entrance.

"Did you make any progress?" Hermione asked, reluctantly letting go of her parents' hands as he made his way across the room to sit next to her on one of the chairs they'd conjured for themselves that morning.

"A bit. There's plenty left to do this week, though. But what's important now is that none of them will be leaving Azkaban for a very long time," Ron finished, addressing Mum and Dad now.

"Good," Dad said sincerely. "Thank you. Your department's been very efficient, really. I'm told the bloke outside the door's been assigned to keep us safe til we leave."

"That's right. We think we've got everybody in custody now, but we're not taking any chances," Ron explained. "Oh, and Hermione - before I forget, you're authorized to do the Fidelius anytime. Later today, if you'd like; they're done with the crime scene. We assumed you'd want to be the Secret Keeper."

"What exactly does that mean?" Mum inquired politely.

"It means nobody will be able to know where your home is unless I want them to," Hermione said kindly. "I can work out the details so that your friends will be able to find it."

"How can you do that?" Ron asked curiously.

"By making sure to fill all the loopholes. If I send out copies of their address to their friends in my own handwriting, for instance, they won't be thrown off," Hermione replied. "I'll have to work through it all to be sure, but it should be a relatively simple process."

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you can do all that," Dad said, chuckling a bit uneasily.

"Hermione can do just about anything," Ron added, turning toward her and grinning widely.

"Oh, hush," Hermione muttered, but she reached over to thread her fingers through his.

They stayed in Mum's room another hour, until they were due at the Burrow for dinner. Though their time was relatively short, they chatted more amicably than they ever had as a group. There was still much to be worked out, but by the time Hermione hugged her parents goodbye, she knew without a doubt that they would be okay.

_-000-_

The week following the attack was insanely busy. Ron was working overtime to ensure that the case was ready for a swift and just trial. This left Hermione to take over many of the last minute tasks associated with the wedding on top of her normal work load. Additionally, she and Ron had taken to spending much of their free time with her parents, to ensure that Mum's recovery was going according to plan and that their relationship continued to grow in light of all that had happened.

It wasn't until seven days before the wedding that they found themselves able to breathe once again - the case had been wrapped up and sent to the legal department, Mum was getting ready to return to work the following week, and everything for the wedding was in order, save for the set-up itself. Though Hermione had offered time and again to help with the décor, Mrs. Weasley had insisted that the others would take care of it, and that all there was left for Ron and Hermione to do was to show up on the day of the ceremony.

So at last, after months of nearly constant chaos, Ron and Hermione found themselves alone in their flat on their last Saturday night before becoming Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, with nothing better to do than curl up together on the sofa and watch television. Neither one had any qualms about the matter, and they turned on a program that neither of them particularly cared for and spent several hours simply enjoying each other's company.

"Hey," Ron said suddenly at just gone ten o'clock, nudging a dozing Hermione with the arm he had wrapped about her shoulders.

"What is it?" Hermione asked with a yawn, shifting a bit so that she could readjust the arm that was strewn across Ron's chest.

"We're going to be having our first married shag about this time next week," Ron told her matter-of-factly, earning himself a pinch on the arm.

"Is that all you think about?" Hermione groaned, though she buried her face in his shoulder.

"You know it's not," Ron replied with a laugh. "But it's strange, isn't it? This time last year you were getting ready to go back to Hogwarts."

"And you were getting ready to start your training," Hermione countered. "Now look at you; you big, bad Auror, you."

"And you get me all to yourself," Ron pointed out, wiggling his eyebrows around and making Hermione giggle.

"I'm a lucky, lucky woman," Hermione managed to deadpan, though she shrieked with glee as Ron dug his fingers into her sides and tickled her.

"So much maturity," she spat when he relented.

"I know. I simply can't control it," Ron replied with a sigh.

"Your maturity?"

"It's a blessing and a curse."

"I'll show you a blessing and a curse-"

Before she could have half a mind to reach for her wand, Ron leaned in and kissed her softly.

"You can't get out of everything that way, you know," Hermione said firmly when he pulled back, though Ron was pleased to note the breathless quality of her voice.

"But I can sure as hell try," Ron quipped, causing Hermione to roll her eyes. "Oh, you know it's 'cause I love you."

Hermione smiled. "I suppose that's true, isn't it?"

"Very," Ron replied sincerely. "And you know that I'm also really fucking happy, yeah?"

"So am I," Hermione said primly. "And I love you, too. I've got a feeling we're going to be quite good at this 'married' business, actually."

"Just good?" Ron replied incredulously. "We're going to be the very best, like nobody ever was!"

"That's a bold statement," Hermione laughed, cuddling closer to him and sighing contentedly. "I'm inclined to agree, though. We're not really like anybody else."

"Nah, we're better," Ron repeated, gathering her completely into his arms and standing up with a grunt. "Want me to show you how much better?"

Hermione bit her lip, pretending to consider his offer. "I don't know…perhaps we ought to save this gushy stuff for the honeymoon."

"Doesn't have to be gushy," Ron pointed out, leaning down to nip at her throat, just underneath her scar.

"Well, go on then," Hermione agreed with a faux-exasperated sigh and a barely concealed shiver of anticipation. "Show me what you've got."

Ron let out what was very nearly a growl, and kissed her hard as he stumbled toward their bedroom. It really was the furthest thing from gushy, though Hermione didn't enjoy it any less. A couple of hours later, however, they went slower, relishing the feeling of being with each other in every way possible.

Hermione knew that the honeymoon period wouldn't last forever. She knew that marriage wasn't easy, and that it wouldn't always be flirting on the sofa or whispers of sweet nothings in her ear as she fell asleep in his embrace. They would have their share of rows and challenges, that much was certain. But in light of everything that had happened - in the face of all that they had fought and conquered together, not only in the past few months, but in the eight years since she'd met him on what would become the first leg of the greatest journey of her life, Hermione knew without a doubt that they were making the right decision. She was madly in love with Ron Weasley, as he was with her, and when she looked back on it, she knew that admitting it had perhaps been the hardest part after all. Now, they had each other, and that was a bigger advantage than any other. Ron had always thought that she could do anything, and she had always believed the same of him - but really, as she now understood, it was only when they were together, hand-in-hand and full of the unadulterated love they had for one another, that they could truly take on the world.

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry I'm so sappy, but hey, who doesn't feel sentimental the week before their wedding? Also it's like my stories aren't really complete without a paragraph about how Ron and Hermione's love can conquer anything, which is ironic considering I'm known as a sarcastic and slightly cynical person in real life.

At any rate, this chapter was mainly to tie up loose ends and such. If there's anything about the plot that was left unclear, please let me know. :) Also, 20 points to anyone that spots the blatant pop culture reference. Now that I think of it I also put a culture reference in the epilogue of FAL and nobody mentioned it that I can recall so maybe I'm just bad at references. Anyway, all that's left now is a fluff-filled epilogue, which I'm hoping will be up within a week. Thank you for reading, you wonderful Romione shippers you!


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I realize it's been a month, and that sucks. I had laptop problems and then I had this weird thing called a life outside of the internet. But now it's here, the last 2648 words of fluff to close out my second chaptered story! This story, sans author's notes, is a total of 61,705 words - the size of a small book! Thank you all so much for coming along on the ride. My first attempt at a plot, and naturally, it ends with mindless happy fluff times. And no one runs away with a floozy.

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is better than me and she is better than you, and these facts make life better for all parties involved.

* * *

Hermione Weasley took a deep breath as she changed out of her work robes and into something more comfortable for the evening. Ron wouldn't be home for another hour or so, but that suited her just fine. She needed to do this alone.

She smiled slightly as she caught a glimpse of the framed photograph on their bedside table. It had been taken on their wedding day, more than five years previously. Neither of them was looking at the camera; instead, they were beaming at each other, and every so often, they leaned in to share a sweet kiss. Of course, there were times their figures left the frame, undoubtedly en route to Ron's bedroom in the Burrow… Hermione blushed a little at _that_ particular memory.

Their wedding ceremony had truly been beautiful. Both of their mums had cried much harder than they themselves had, which was to be expected. Even Dad had got a bit emotional, Hermione recalled, as he walked her down the aisle toward Ron. In Hermione's memory, that day symbolically marked the beginning of a new era in Ron's and her relationship with her parents - the trauma of that summer had at last drawn to a close, and together, they were looking forward to the next phase in their lives.

But of course, the focus of it all had been her relationship with Ron. Even more than her father's teary eyes or her mother's beaming smile, Hermione was certain she would always remember the look on her soon-to-be husband's face as he caught sight of her. But it wasn't simply the elation that had been displayed clearly his face; no, it had been as though his entire _being_ was smiling. In retrospect, Hermione didn't recall much of what happened immediately after - she had been a bit preoccupied by smiling almost stupidly at Ron, as he had at her. In fact, so distracted were they that they'd each been prompted twice to repeat their vows at the right moment.

Once they had managed to complete the ceremony itself, chaos broke loose as they were shuffled about from guest to guest and smothered with congratulations. In fact, the next clear moment in Hermione's mind was their first dance as husband and wife. As her thoughts wandered, Hermione made her way across the bedroom to gaze at the group of photographs on the opposite wall; the largest displayed the very moment in question.

_"Everybody's watching us," Ron muttered out of the corner of his mouth._

_"It's not like that's a surprise," Hermione sighed as she leaned her head lightly against his shoulder, careful not to ruin the up-do Ginny and Fleur had taken such care to perfect. "We knew this part would be sort of strange."_

_"We should have practiced," Ron remarked as he shifted his hands higher on her waist, steering her gently in a circle as they swayed._

_"It's not like I didn't offer," Hermione pointed out. "We could have practiced any time we wanted."_

_"George is laughing at us," Ron glared toward one of the tables that were surrounding them. Hermione rolled her eyes and awkwardly leaned up on her tiptoes as she swayed to press a quick but loving kiss to her husband's lips, earning them an assortment of catcalls and hollers._

_"He's probably laughing harder now," Ron insisted, but he was clearly pleased._

_"So is Harry," Hermione observed, nodding over Ron's shoulder._

_"Well, he can piss off – oh, sorry," Ron replied, inadvertently stepping on Hermione's toes in his frustration. "Some best man, I tell you."_

_"It was a nice toast, though," Hermione remarked thoughtfully. "Very sweet of him."_

_"Better than Ginny's," Ron frowned. "I swear, it's like she's been collecting embarrassing stories all these years."_

_"Well, you'll be able to get back at her when it's their turn," Hermione said dismissively. It was a sign of just how far they'd all come that Ron had not even the smallest visible reaction to his sister's relationship with his best friend; as he had once admitted privately to Hermione, "I'd deck anybody who tried to make them unhappy, and that includes myself." _

_(He always had been sweet in his own way, hadn't he?)_

_"So how much longer 'til I get to dance with my wife in peace?" Ron asked conversationally, eyeing the small crowd that was still watching them attentively._

_"I imagine it'll be around the time we finally get a moment alone together," Hermione replied._

_Ron chuckled. " Once I actually get you to myself, love, there's no way in hell we're going to waste any time dancing," he retorted._

_Hermione blushed as she made eye contact with her parents, both of whom still looked a little dumbstruck by the sheer amount of magic surrounding them. But they appeared happy and whole, and there was nothing Hermione wanted more. They had made so much progress together in the days since Rodolphus Lestrange had been shut away in Azkaban for life, and Hermione couldn't be happier that they would truly be a part of her new life with Ron._

_"Oh, good, my mum and dad are joining us now," Ron remarked, breathing a visible sigh of relief. "Maybe we can actually enjoy ourselves now."_

_"Enjoy ourselves at our own wedding? Unheard of," Hermione replied dryly. _

_Ron's face softened a little. "You've been fantastic today. Really pretty and really wife-y. It's great."_

_"How does a person achieve wifey-ness?" Hermione asked carefully, torn between amusement and vexation. _

_"Well, generally, she ought to be a wife," Ron replied with a smirk, "which you are, now. And you're my beautiful, amazing, fuck-tastic wife, so that's all the better. And you're brilliant enough for two, that's important."_

_"I see," Hermione replied. "Thank you, I think."_

_"What about me?" Ron asked, steering her out of the way of Bill and Fleur, who had just taken the floor in a far more practiced and dramatic fashion than they had._

_"What about you?" Hermione teased. Ron simply pouted in response. "I mean, I suppose you've been a pretty good husband these first two hours," she answered with a sly grin. _

_"What, I'm not the best yet?" Ron asked with an overly dramatic sigh._

_"Oh, you know you are," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't give me the puppy face."_

_"You know you like it," Ron teased. "You said it was cute, didn't you? And I seem to recall this face getting me some nice perks in the past…"_

_"If I kiss you, will you stop talking?" Hermione asked briskly._

_"Well, I would have to, wouldn't I? It's kind of hard to get a proper snog in while you're-"_

_Ignoring his snarky comments entirely, Hermione pressed her lips firmly to his, and they stopped swaying altogether. She felt Ron smile into the kiss, and she couldn't help but reciprocate. They were on the precipice of a lifetime of good-natured bickering and blissful kisses, and she couldn't wait to do it all together._

Hermione sighed contentedly as she recalled the first beautiful moments of their marriage. She had been right, of course; they had never gotten through a day without bickering. But it lacked the heated tension of their earlier years, and now, they could truly work together as a team. She was a bit proud, actually, that they had been able to build something so strong that it only became more beautiful as time went on - perhaps it was a bit less new and shiny, but it was incredible all the same.

Guilt seeped into her thoughts just then as she reached for her briefcase to retrieve her beaded bag. On their wedding day, they had promised that they would undertake everything life had to offer them together. But as Hermione pulled out the small stick of plastic she had preserved in a small plastic bag, she knew that she had made the right decision to keep it from Ron for the time being. She didn't think she could take the disappointment on his face if it turned out to be a false positive.

They had been trying for nearly six months now, and Hermione knew Ron well enough to tell that beneath his upbeat attitude, he was becoming frustrated. She herself was a bit worried; Ginny had told her that James had been the result of Harry's and her first go at it, yet Hermione and Ron had been charting her ovulation cycle for months without even a missed period to show for it. Until now, that is.

It would only take one spell. One spell, and she'd know. She'd spent her lunch hour in the Ministry's library, confirming that she'd chosen the most accurate charm and reviewing the proper technique for its use. In less than a minute's time, she could know. She gazed absentmindedly at the small display of wedding photographs for a moment longer in an attempt to calm the butterflies fluttering in the pit of her stomach. It didn't quite work, but the sight of their own beaming faces staring back at her strengthened her resolve. They would get through it together, regardless of what the charm told her.

Taking one last breath to steady herself, Hermione picked up her wand from the bedside table. Slowly but confidently, she raised up her shirt and pointed the wand just above her belly button. Carefully maneuvering her wrist in a sort of figure-eight, she murmured, "ostende infantem."

She sat in bated breath for only a moment before both the tip of her wand and her belly button began to glow a soft, golden color. A few second later, the glow became a burnt orange. Hermione stared at it in shock long after it had faded away.

"Hermione?" Ron's voice called from downstairs after some indeterminable amount of time.

"Up here!" she managed to respond in a small, strained voice.

"Hermione?" Ron repeated, his voice much closer now. A minute later, he joined her in the bedroom, shedding his Auror robes as he crossed to the wardrobe. "Oh, there you are. How was your day, then? Mine was bloody awful."

"Ron," Hermione interrupted breathlessly, her wand still pointed toward her belly.

"Yeah, I know, I'll watch my language," Ron dismissed. "Still, I hate being on-duty. Three raids in one day, can you believe that? And one of them involved chasing down a couple of bloody idiots whose bright idea for 'making a statement' included planting dungbombs all over central London. Harmless, of course, but when anything looks like it's exploding they've got to bring us in. Took nearly the entire afternoon."

"Ron," Hermione repeated more insistently, dropping her wand onto the bed beside her.

"Okay, I know it's a stupid thing to complain about, but honestly, Hermione, I'm meant to be an _Auror_, not a stand-in parent for a couple of bored teenagers on holiday," Ron continued, stripping down to just his boxers and a simple white t-shirt. "I mean, really, even Fred and George wouldn't have had a laugh over that; the least these kids could do is _try_ to be creative. And of course, once we've got _that_ under control - Hermione?" Ron must have seen something in her expression; he broke off as he turned to face her and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"I have some news," Hermione said quietly, rising to her feet as steadily as she could.

"What is it?" Ron asked concernedly, taking a tentative step toward her.

Hermione rung her hands anxiously. "I've just…I-I was late, and I…oh, I _do _wish I'd waited for you to do the tests, but I wanted to be completely sure before I told-"

"Hermione?" Ron repeated, reaching out to touch her arm lightly. She looked up properly and saw the glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"I…I'm pregnant," Hermione said in a whisper, almost as though she couldn't quite believe it.

"You're…"

"I'm pregnant," she repeated, elation rising as she watched a look of utter amazement and wonder spread across Ron's face.

"I…you're…we're having a baby?" Ron asked. It seemed he couldn't quite believe it himself; he wore the same look he had the first time she'd kissed him, and Hermione let out some mixture between a laugh and a sob as she managed to nod.

"We're having a baby!" she repeated in a breathy voice. Before she quite knew what was happening, Ron had gathered her in his arms and lifted her off her feet, swinging her around as he laughed joyfully. She clung to his torso tightly, still torn between giggles and tears.

"I'm going to be a dad," he murmured into her hair once he set her down. "I mean, _wow_, I already am a dad, aren't I?" he added incredulously, drawing back and sliding his hands from her back to her stomach.

"You're such a great dad already," Hermione said tenderly as she hugged him back to her.

"Yeah, and what about you? You're the most amazing mum on the planet! Merlin, I can't believe…a baby!"

Hermione nearly hiccupped as she let out a giggle. "I took two tests," she informed him as she pulled back again. "I was more than a week late, so I figured I ought to see…of course, we'll have to go see a Healer to make sure everything's alright; things can be so touch and go for the first few months, you know. I was going to wait awhile longer, but…well, how could I? So I took the muggle one at lunch today, and I've just done the spell. I had to be sure before I told you."

Ron seemed unable to wipe the grin from his face. "I love you," he declared triumphantly, leaning in and kissing her full on the mouth. "I love you so much," he repeated when they broke apart.

"And I love you," Hermione replied happily, leaning in to kiss him again. "Thank you, Ron. I just…you're the best husband I could ever ask for."

"Really?" Ron asked with a chuckle. "You're the one that's carrying our kid; I ought to be thanking you. Or worshipping you on bended knee, more like."

"I hope you know I'll be reminding you of that for the next eight months," Hermione retorted teasingly.

"I hope you don't have to," Ron said sincerely. "Really, Hermione, I know you're the one that's going to have to waddle around like an elephant for months and actually push the thing out when you're done, so _I'm_ going to be the one that keeps you happy the whole time."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You're lucky I know you so well. That'd probably sound insensitive to a normal person."

"I really am," Ron said, almost dreamily. "Lucky, I mean."

Hermione smiled and drew him as close as she could. "You might not be saying that when you're changing nappies this time next year."

"Nappies. Our baby's nappies," Ron replied, his eyes shining. Then he kissed her again, and this time, they didn't stop.

Afterward, Hermione would tease Ron mercilessly ("honestly, _nappies_ put you in the mood?"), and he would shove her arm playfully. Then, she would tickle his sides until he howled, and he would pin her arms to her sides in a tight embrace. She would grumble that there was no way he'd have beaten her if they'd had their wands, and he would hum contentedly instead of making a comment to the contrary. Later, she would settle her head atop his chest, and he would drop a kiss to her crown as they drifted off to sleep. And ultimately, they always would be their own particular brand of perfection. Despite all the battles they fought and the obstacles they overcame (or, perhaps, because of them), Ron and Hermione Weasley got married at the age of nineteen, and they never once came to regret it. And the best part? It was all just the beginning of their happily ever after.

* * *

A/N: Aaaand we're out! Again, thank you all so much. I have had the pleasure of talking to so many lovely reviewers as a result of writing this story, and that's amazingly fantastic and beautiful and so many things I can't even explain. There are several people that have reviewed every chapter of this and that's crazy cool. I'm still in awe that anyone pays attention to anything I've written (especially since so much of it is just Ron and Hermione smiling at and snogging each other), so thank you. I looove you a lot.

Next on my agenda is finishing my mini-series, "Pieces of Extraordinary," before November, at which point I'll be going on fic hiatus for a month to participate in NaNoWriMo. I'm going to write an original novel! HURRAY! The lovely diva-gonzo and CoyoteLaughingSoftly, both of whom I met through fanfiction, are wonderful people who have helped me with the outlines for my original work, and they are awesome writers themselves. You should check out their work. Do it. It'll make you happy.

Again, I can't even explain how awesome you all are. Everybody that's read, reviewed, followed, or favorited this story has put a smile on my face and I couldn't ask for more from you internet strangers/friends. Keep being extraordinary. :)


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